Crimes of Perception
by KateMonster
Summary: LJ is finally in a place that should be safe, with people he should be able to trust, but no place is safe anymore. Spoilers through 2.07, beyond that is unspoiled speculation.
1. New Glarus

The place looked just the same as when they'd left it, and he could almost hear the voices of Nick and Veronica echoing around the quiet rooms, giving the whole place an uncanny and spooky air.

Aside from a new bag or two in the corner, it had barely been disturbed. A new coat of dust seemed to have settled over everything, fighting with the dust that was already there. The same musky smell, the same drafty air. Same creaky floors.

Part of him still felt that he had no right to be here, but as far as they could tell there were no surviving Savrinn family members, and it wasn't like the place had been recorded anywhere to be willed to anyone else, and it still seemed secure enough, so for the moment, LJ felt fairly safe in assuming ownership of the remote cabin in the woods. Which he'd done when they'd given Michael the address two days ago.

It was as much of a home as anything he'd had recently, after all. Adrian's house was still tied up in legal proceedings, and even though LJ had a hunch the place very well might be his if he was calculating things right, he wasn't about to pop up to claim it at the moment.

"You okay?" Lincoln asked, studying his reaction.

"Yeah, I'm good," LJ said. He carefully set his duffel bag down on the floor. "Just…" He trailed off. The place still didn't feel safe. Maybe he wasn't ever going to get any safer than this.

"Michael!" Lincoln called out, making his way in, apparently oblivious to his son's hesitation. "They've got to be here by now," he mumbled as he moved towards the bedroom, then jumped backwards, startled. "Sorry-"

"No, I'm sorry." The red-haired woman raised her arms defensively as she entered the kitchen. "I wasn't-" She turned to the doorway and registered the presence of LJ. "Hello." The tone of her voice changed to one of curiosity, mixed with courtesy.

"Dr. Tancredi," Lincoln said, "this is my son."

Hi," LJ said, stretching his hand out as politely as he could. "LJ." She shook it. She had a firm, quick, chilly grasp. He pulled back as soon as she released him, and discretely slid his hand down his backside to warm it again.

"You can call me Sara," she said to him, and he wondered if that meant his father got to call her Sara or not. "It's good to have you here." He hooked his hand casually into his back pocket, trying to look as confident as he could, since he wasn't feeling it.

"Where's my brother?" Lincoln asked her.

"They're in the back," Sara said. "He'll be out in a second. I know he's anxious to see you. Both of you," she added quickly.

"They?" LJ asked. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and tucked both hands underneath his armpits, folding his arms.

She opened her mouth and then closed it, because Michael had appeared in the doorway, a relieved expression on his face. Lincoln moved forward to embrace him. LJ lingered back, feeling somewhat uncomfortable, until his father and uncle parted.

"LJ," Michael said.

"Hi," LJ said again. He didn't know what else to say. Michael looked as though he wanted to move forward for a hug, but LJ stayed put, and after a moment, so did his uncle.

"You're okay?" Michael asked with a look of intense concern.

"Yeah," LJ said. "I'm good?" Almost as though he wasn't sure himself. Maybe he wasn't.

"That's good," Michael said. LJ glanced down at his shoes. "We've got a lot of work to do," Michael said, addressing Lincoln again now. "So take it easy for a little bit, but let me know when you're ready to start on this."

"Right," Lincoln said, relieved, moving over to the kitchen to search for something to eat.

"What?" LJ asked. "What are you working on?"

Michael glanced down himself before addressing LJ directly. "Our next step is to take these guys down for good," he explained. "Though I want you to keep a safe distance."

"Are you crazy?" he demanded. "I know more than any of you. I want to help. They killed my mom. Are you fucking nuts?"

"LJ," Lincoln said, stopping in his tracks and turning around, and then all three of them – Michael, LJ and Lincoln, all joined in simultaneously. "Language," they said at once, LJ rolling his eyes as he did.

"Like anybody here really cares if I cuss?" LJ asked, throwing his arms up. "Is that what we're worrying about now? Don't cuss, LJ, and whatever you do, keep your nose out of our precious business?"

"Michael," Lincoln said softly.

Michael's face turned reluctant. "All right. You're in on the planning," he said firmly, "but I want you staying out of danger." Lincoln nodded slowly in agreement. "Listen, take a few minutes first. Kick back. We're all here. We're safe." He allowed the slight hint of a smile to cross his face and he turned to start digging through the cabinets. "Who's hungry?"

"I found some mac and cheese, if anybody wants," Sara said, joining him and opening the door to produce the box.

"You don't have to do the cooking, now," Michael countered, relaxing considerably. "We're progressive here, after all."

"Thanks, but after what you made last night, I'll pass," Sara said. "How about this - you make the trip to the well, and I'll handle the stove. Who wants mac and cheese?"

LJ was about to ask her which of the wells they were using, because that comment concerned him more than a little bit, when a voice came from the bedroom, a voice that turned his blood to ice water. "Oh, boy, that sounds great to me-"

He didn't hesitate. If the last three months had changed him in any one significant way, it was his reflexes, it was the state of constantly being on edge, and it only took him about two seconds to scramble for the gun cabinet, throw it open, and grab for the nearest revolver.


	2. Standoff

"What th-?" Lincoln asked. "LJ!"

LJ whirled around, training the weapon firmly on the man who had just entered the kitchen. "Don't. Fucking. Move." His finger inched up to the trigger. He fumbled for the safety.

"Easy," Michael said, raising his hands defensively. "Take it easy there, buddy."

"Shut up!" LJ shouted, the gun moving only slightly in response to his outburst. "What is he doing here?"

"We brought him here," Michael said patiently, but his arms stayed up, on guard.

The man raised his own hands helplessly. "It's okay, LJ," he said. "I'm not here to hurt anybody."

"Like hell!" LJ weighed the weapon in his hands, hoping to high heaven that it was loaded. "He's lying! Whatever he told you, he's lying!"

He had one advantage over the last time he'd faced down Kellerman, or Kravecki, or whatever his name was, with a weapon. Last time, the power had been in the hands of the police, who had no chance of believing him. This time, the witnesses were at least slightly more inclined to take his side. That knowledge alone emboldened him.

"Give me the gun, LJ," Lincoln ordered. "Let me handle this."

LJ ignored his father. It came easily. He'd done it plenty of times before, after all. "He killed my mother," he said, his voice low. "He tried to kill me…"

"That's not exactly true," the man said, still holding his hands out but looking less than concerned, which only made LJ more inclined to press the trigger.

"Liar!" LJ snapped.

"I didn't kill your mother," Kellerman sighed. "Think about it, remember how it happened? That wasn't my work, and you know it."

LJ did know it, after all. The events of that day were burned into his brain, and perhaps the man hadn't pulled the trigger on Lisa himself. But still… "You were there!" He could hear his own voice breaking.

Kellerman glanced over at Sara and Michael, who were still frozen by the door. "Yes," he said slowly, addressing them more than LJ. "Yes, I was there. Yes, I was under orders to kill you, and yes, you shot me once already." That last part seemed directed at the others, pointedly. "And you had every right to. But things are different now-"

"And my stepfather!" LJ insisted. "You killed him, I know you did, I saw you do it, you did it right in front of my face, you motherfucker. You murderer." He was prepared to shoot this time. To get it right. He would do it. He would. He could. He wouldn't miss.

"Yes," Kellerman sighed. "LJ, listen to me. Give the gun to your father."

"Give me the gun," Lincoln said again, his voice quiet and calm. LJ wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him to take care of it, but not yet. Not until he knew.

"Anything he says is a lie," LJ said in a low voice, addressing his father more than anyone else. "What did he tell you his name was? Kellerman? Or Kravecki?"

"Neither one is my birth name," Kellerman offered, "but for what it's worth, Keller-"

"I said _shut up_!" LJ shouted. "You shut _up!_ You, you got nothin' to say that I wanna hear."

"The handcuffs," Kellerman said, and LJ snapped his own mouth shut for once. "There's handcuffs," he said across the room in Sara's direction, "in my bag, in the closet. Go get them, and put me anywhere you feel like." He looked back at LJ. "Things are different now," he said. His face wore a pleading expression, although he had to know that there was very little at this point that he could do to win LJ's sympathy.

"LJ, give me the gun," Lincoln said yet again. Behind him, Sara ducked down, digging in the bottom of the closet for the handcuffs.

"I'm listening," was all that LJ said. He changed position slightly, blocking out his father. If anybody could take him down and disarm him right now, it would be Lincoln. And that wasn't going to happen.

"The people who wanted you dead," Kellerman said slowly, "the people who gave me those orders, the people wanted your mom and your stepdad dead, those people are the ones that I'm trying to bring down. We're on the same side here."

"No," LJ murmured softly. "You're lying. You always lie. You tried to kill me-"

"I did," Kellerman admitted, "Yes. And no, you don't have any reason to believe me, and yes, I did shoot your stepfather. But honestly, weren't there times when you wanted him dead, too? I know he hit you-"

It was the wrong thing to say. For once, the man was scared, and for once he was making the wrong judgment. LJ tensed, clenching the gun, and he could see his father sucking in a deep breath, too, finally worried about something besides his offspring's hands on a revolver. But Kellerman saw this, too, and changed tracks.

"That doesn't make up for it," he said quickly, "but there were reasons, LJ, circumstances you don't understand. And right now, I'm going to let you secure me however you want to, whatever you have to do to make yourself feel safe."

Sara rose, holding the handcuffs and looking shaken. "It's not enough," LJ said. "They're his handcuffs, I bet you anything he's got something-"

"Not when I'm done with him," Michael said, moving forward. "Over here." He gestured to the pipe in the corner, and Kellerman made his way over, Sara following with the handcuffs. LJ followed them, the gun still trained firmly on Kellerman. He knew what it felt like now, the kick of a gun when he fired, and now he knew how to hold on tight if he had to. This time he wouldn't miss. He sensed his father stepping in closer to him as Sara and Michael set to work securing Kellerman in the corner, cuffing his hands behind him around the pipe.

"Easy now," Lincoln murmured, practically in his ear. "Easy, kid."

"Sleeves," Michael said to Sara, and the two of them pushed his sleeves up on either side, checking for hidden keys. LJ relaxed only slightly. They knew what they were doing. They were thinking almost like one person, the two of them. "There's rope in the attic," he told her, and she turned to dash off in search of it.

"LJ?" Lincoln said yet again, and LJ took one last look in the corner, where Kellerman looked more or less secure, and then quickly bowed his head, shoved the weapon into the surprised hands of his father, who fumbled it only slightly, and stormed off to the back room.

It was Nick's room just a month ago, the clothes in the closet were the ones that Nick had left here. The room still smelled like him, a faint hint of the cologne he wore whenever he and Veronica went off somewhere important, mixed with the musky familiar smell of the old cabin. A book was on the nightstand – a book Nick had been reading. The Book of Daniel, by E. L. Doctorow. LJ picked it up and stared at it. A bookmark stuck out about two thirds of the way through. That was probably as far as Nick had gotten. And he wouldn't finish it now. Had Kellerman killed him, too? He made a mental note to ask – but later, after he'd calmed down. Probably he had. Probably he wouldn't tell the truth either way.

His breath was still coming too rapidly. His heart was fluttering, and he had a distinctly unsettled feeling. How could he feel safe here, even with the man bound and cuffed? Even gagged wouldn't help right now. How could he eat macaroni and cheese knowing that the man who tried to kill him, the man who chased him across state lines, the man who shot Adrian, the man who wasn't afraid of him was watching?

He turned the book over to study the back, and his heart nearly skipped a beat. A book about a boy with not one, but two parents sent to the electric chair. He quickly set it down on the nightstand. How could Nick read something like that? LJ didn't even want to touch it. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact that it was something of Nick's, he would want to burn it… who would want to read about something like that… that was just sick…

"Hey," Michael said, pushing the door open gently. "You okay?"

LJ took in a shuddering breath. "I can't," he said. "I can't stay here, not in a house with him, I can't sleep with him out there…."

"Of course," Michael said, his voice calm and low. He pulled the door shut behind him. "We're not trusting him, kiddo. Don't think for a second that's what this is about. We know exactly who he is and what he's capable of. This is about you, and me, and your dad. This is about taking care of family first."

"Family and your prison doctor?" LJ asked, and immediately regretted it.

"I trust her," Michael said. "As much as I trust anybody who's not related to me right now. She doesn't have anybody else, either. They killed her father, you know."

LJ licked his lips. "It's okay," he said. "I mean, I don't care about her. But him…" He shook his head. "If you'd seen what I saw… Mike, you know how my stepdad died? Trying to keep that guy, out there, from killing me. And he died for that. And in that moment… You know, I really don't care if he ever put his hands on me, or how that asshole out there even knew that. I just want to see him," and he pointed out in the direction of the rest of the cabin, "dead."

"Calm down," Michael said.

"This _is_ me calm," LJ snapped.

"Okay…" Michael said, not sounding entirely convinced, "then listen to me, and let's be rational. He says that the conspiracy turned on him and now he wants to bring them down, too. Maybe he's lying. I believe you, everything you said, because you're the one I trust here. Not him. But right now, he's our best chance of getting to them."

"What if he's just setting us up?" LJ snapped.

"Then we'll outsmart him," Michael said patiently. "That's the important part. We don't have to trust him, but we have to listen to him. I do believe one thing, though. I believe that he was just following orders when he went after you. Who do you really want to go after, him, or the people who sent him?"

LJ sucked in another breath. He turned around, facing away from Michael, and sat down quickly on the bed. How many people out there had wanted to end his life? How many people had signed off on the plan that killed his mother?

"I'm here," Michael said, "and your father is here, and we'll make sure that man can't hurt you. Ever again. And we'll take care of those people who were responsible for your mom and try to see to it that they don't hurt anybody, ever again, either."

"Can he suffer?" LJ asked quietly. "Can I make him pay?"

"That won't help," Michael said, lowering his voice as well. "That won't bring your mother back, and that won't help us bring these people down."

LJ was silent for a moment. "I guess maybe that's okay," he said at last. "I already shot him once."

He looked up in surprise as Michael sat down beside him. "I need you to tell me about that," Michael said gently. "All of it. I want you to tell me everything that happened. Everything that you know. Every detail."

LJ's eyes widened. He licked his lips.

"As hard as I know this is," Michael continued, "the more I know, the better our chances of getting these suckers."

LJ turned to look at his uncle. "If I tell you," he said slowly, "I want to know everything that you know, too. Everything you did. All those things you didn't tell me about."

Michael sighed, shaking his head. "El," he said. He hadn't called him El in years. Not since elementary school. "There was a reason I didn't tell you that stuff-"

"I get it, okay?" LJ said quickly. "You wanted to protect me. You tried. I understand. But now things are different. And now I want to know."

Michael blinked, considering this. It took him a moment. "All right then," he said. "That's fair."

"Okay," LJ said at last. "Okay." He took another deep breath. "You're right. I guess it started… it started the day Dad told me he was innocent."

He looked up, and Michael was waiting.


	3. Daniel's Book

Two hours had passed before Michael and LJ emerged from the bedroom. Michael's face looked even wearier than before, if possible, although LJ, for his part, felt much calmer.

The first thing he did was to march over to the corner where Kellerman was resting, grab the rope securing him, and tug as hard as he could.

"Ow! Hey!" the man protested. "Watch it."

"Looks good to me," LJ said, satisfied. He walked over to the kitchen to spoon some of the lunch leftovers into a bowl – he was hungrier than ever now. He sat down at the counter to eat, trying to ignore the silent, still menacing presence slumped in the corner. He stared down at his food. This wasn't going to be easy.

Something hit the table with a thud. He looked up to see Lincoln standing over him, looking at him expectantly. LJ leaned over to see what had landed, and picked up a tattered paperback copy of 'Great Expectations'.

"What's this?" he asked, turning it over.

"Your homework assignment," Lincoln said.

"What?" LJ asked. He saw Sara trying to hide a smile from the corner where she was working on her laptop. He had a bad feeling about this.

"No son of mine is skipping out on education."

"Dad," LJ said. "C'mon." He wasn't sure if this was supposed to be a joke or not, but nobody was laughing.

"I mean it. I'm in charge for now. I want a book report in three days' time, and I don't mean just a summary. I want some critical thought in it."

"But I read it already," LJ said, looking up. "It's part of the freshman honors curriculum."

His father blinked. "It is?"

"Michael," LJ said, leaning around, "tell him!" Michael was staring out the window, and turned around in response.

"Now how am I supposed to know that?" Michael asked.

"Remember? You picked me up from school the day we had our class presentations? I had a moldy cake in the backseat."

"Oh yeah," Michael recalled.

"See?" LJ asked, smirking just a little.

"So then how'd you do on it?" Lincoln pressed. He wasn't going to give this up.

"That was freshman year," LJ said patiently. "That was the year I had straight A's."

"Okay," Lincoln said, somewhat taken aback. LJ hung his head, feeling mildly guilty. At one point in his life, his father had expected a full report on his studies each week. Freshman year, he hadn't exactly gotten that, for obvious reasons. "Okay, then I'll let you choose. There's plenty of books in this house, but I want something written before you were born, no pictures. Three days."

"But… school's not even in session now. It's summer vacation."

"And somebody missed the last couple months of school and is going to have to make up their sophomore year eventually anyway. Might as well get started with the academics," Lincoln said. "Keep your skills up."

"How'm I supposed to write a book report way out here?"

"There's paper and pens in the desk," Lincoln said.

"…Paper?" LJ echoed. "You're serious."

"Or, you can borrow the computer," Sara chimed in. She was definitely not helping. She was sliding down LJ's list of preferred people, and fast. And he didn't exactly have much of a list at the moment.

"And check with me once you pick something out," Lincoln ordered. "I'm gonna reserve veto power."

LJ rolled his eyes and swallowed another bite of pasta and canned cheese. "Okay, fine," he said, although actually, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to have something to do instead of just sitting around glaring at Kellerman in the corner.

Veronica and Nick hadn't made him do any schoolwork out here – it hadn't even occurred to them – but maybe it was best not to bring that up right now.

"This drags out long enough," Lincoln added, "maybe Mike can help you out with some geometry or something." LJ glanced up to see Michael turning around at the window, and clearly from the expression on his face, he was about as excited as LJ about the concept. LJ bit his lip to avoid giving his uncle away. Michael had tried to help him with his homework before, and it never ended well. Michael wasn't a very patient teacher.

"Some of us are pretty good at biology, too," Sara added.

"What about you?" Lincoln asked, wandering over in Kellerman's direction. "What have you got to bring to the table, huh? Make yourself useful."

"Well, I'd be happy to do some history," Kellerman pointed out, attempting a genial smile, "although I also wouldn't blame the kid if he doesn't want anything to do with-"

"You got that right," LJ said. He couldn't even listen to the man attempting to be polite, even while chained to a pipe. Just to prove his point, he grabbed his bowl from the table and walked back into the bedroom again. Maybe he could go outside to get his reading done. Anything would be better than staying in this claustrophobic, haunted place another day.

He stared at the book on the side table again. He picked it up and studied it. It was even more worn than Great Expectations, and he opened the front flap to find the carefully lettered name: "NICHOLAS SAVRINN". The name had been inscribed with a ballpoint pen, and it looked as though it had been there for some time. The handwriting didn't look like the careful lettering that he knew Nick to have, it looked… younger somehow.

LJ set his bowl down and sat on the bed, turning the book over in his hands. He was wrong, what he'd thought before. Nick had finished the book all right. He'd read this book many times, from the well-thumbed look of it. While his own father was in jail, no doubt. He was just in the middle of reading it again the last time he was here.

He grabbed the bowl again and carried both the book and the bowl back out to the living area. "How's this one?" he asked, holding it up. Lincoln studied it.

"Doctorow," he read aloud. "Okay. That's good. He's good. Right?" He glanced over at Michael, who nodded, distracted, from where he was reading something over Sara's shoulder on the computer screen. "That'll do."

"Great," LJ said. He tucked the book under his arm, scooped out the last bite of pasta, dumped the bowl on the counter with the other dirty dishes, and made his way outside the cabin, to the log bench outside.

The sun had just barely started to duck down beneath the trees, and he set the book down and, without thinking, almost out of habit, picked up a stick to start breaking it apart. This place had too many uncomfortable memories. During the time he'd stayed here before, he'd felt safe – as much as he could under the circumstances, but now? After he'd been held prisoner here, after Nick and Veronica's deaths? Nothing was safe, and this place only served to remind him of it, especially with Kellerman hogtied inside and his dad and uncle wandering about like nothing was wrong. This was a dangerous place, but right now, it was also the closest thing he had to a home.

He opened the book and stared at the inscription again in the front cover. Nicholas Savrinn. He tried to imagine what Nick had been like at his age. This cabin had been in their family for years, he'd said – maybe he'd even been here when he was sixteen, too, sitting out here on this log, reading the book, not knowing that he'd be killed before the age of forty. And nobody cared. Nobody was investigating his death, nobody was going to be tried, ever. LJ didn't even know who was responsible, and there were any number of possible killers. It didn't have to be Kellerman.

Maybe after he was done clearing his father and dealing with Kellerman, maybe then he'd solve Nick and Veronica's murders, too. But that was a long time away, and right now he had…

…Homework.

Sara emerged from the back door, holding a bucket. Which reminded him. "Hey, which well have you guys been using?" LJ asked. "The one out by the trees, or the one up the hill?"

"Up the hill," she said.

"Oh, good," he said.

"There's another one?"

"Yeah, and you don't want to use it." He wrinkled his nose. "Trust me."

She smiled slightly, nodded and continued past him, and he pulled one knee up to his chest and opened the book to the first page. He leaned his chin on his knee and started to read.


	4. The Offer

By the time he looked up again, the sun had finally gone down too far to allow him to make out the words on the page. LJ took a deep breath. He couldn't shake that uncomfortable, unsettled feeling, of finally, for once, feeling thankful about the events of his own life. And as embarrassing as it was, he knew exactly what he had to do next. He tucked the book into his back pocket, headed in to the cabin, and went directly to the sofa where his father was sitting, having just broken off a conversation with Michael when he entered. He approached him from behind, because somehow that would make this less awkward, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

Lincoln, for his part, managed to contain his surprise. He reached an arm back around to fumble for something, and wound up patting LJ on the head comfortingly. LJ buried his face in his father's shoulder for just a second, inhaled deeply, appreciating the moment, and then stood up.

"You okay?" Lincoln asked, twisting around to see his son's face.

"Great," LJ said. "Actually." He offered half a genuine smile. 

"We should tell him," Michael said to his brother.

"No," Lincoln said in a low voice.

"Tell me what?" LJ asked.

"We're working on how to expose these guys," Michael said, turning around to face LJ.

"I told you I wanted to keep him out of it," Lincoln hissed.

LJ made his way around the couch to face his father. "Didn't we cover this already? It is way too late for that."

"He's right," Kellerman said. LJ folded his arms and turned around. The man looked too comfortable in the corner for his comfort. He scowled. "LJ has been in this more than either of you two, if that's possible. And he's smart."

LJ blinked. "What'd you just say?" he asked in surprise. He took a step towards the man in spite of his best instincts.

"You're smart," Kellerman said, addressing him directly. "I don't know how you found out where I lived. I don't know how you managed to shake us after your mom died. Dumping your cell phone, outwitting the agent they sent here – Burrows," he said, twisting to peer around LJ, "your kid's a quick one."

"Takes after his uncle," Lincoln grunted from behind LJ. "More'n his old man, apparently."

LJ wasn't sure whether he should be angered or flattered. "I had help," he said, with a defensive edge in his voice.

"And what happened to them? Burrows, trust your kid here. He's got the survival instincts of a cockroach-"

LJ lashed out with his foot, catching Kellerman's leg where it was stretched out. The man pulled his legs back quickly, wincing just a bit.

"Yeah. Um, that was a compliment?" Kellerman said, annoyed.

"Some compliment," LJ muttered. He pursed his lips for a moment and then spat, his spittle lodging squarely on Kellerman's t-shirt.

"LJ-" Lincoln said, starting to rise, but Michael placed a hand on his shoulder, easing him back. Kellerman, for his part, just smiled and shook his head.

"As long as he doesn't have a gun, I don't mind," he said rather cheerfully.

"Really? Cause I could get one," LJ offered.

"Sit down," Michael ordered, and for once, LJ obeyed, digging the book out of his pocket, plopping down in the armchair and tossing the book on the ottoman. It spun to a halt, staring up at him, challenging him. At least Michael was on his side when it came to letting him help, and also letting him spit at Kellerman. That was about the best thing he had going right now.

"So quit patronizing me. What's this big plan?" he asked.

"That's what we're trying to decide," Kellerman said. "I don't think going to the press will work, Scofield. These guys are too connected. They'll beat you to them. Remember what happened when you tried that?" he asked Lincoln. His eyes flitted over to LJ for just a moment.

"You don't have to remind me," Lincoln said quietly.

"What happened?" LJ asked, but his father shook his head. He quickly decided he didn't want to know. He had a bad feeling.

"We've got to get control of something that they want," Michael said. "What do these people want, Paul?"

"Power," Kellerman said, "which is not something you'll be seeing much of in your current position."

"Then how do we jeopardize that power?" LJ asked. He settled his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands, trying to look serious and respectable before they remembered he was still just sixteen.

"The whole thing is falling apart from within," Kellerman said. "The company split with Reynolds just before the death of the president."

"The death of the president," Sara said, moving in to the room and leaning on the coffee table, "that was connected, wasn't it?"

"Smart girl," Kellerman said approvingly.

"Then just how deep does this go?" Michael asked, glancing up at Sara and then back to the prisoner in the corner. "Is there anywhere that the company doesn't reach?" His voice rose in frustration, which didn't sound natural to LJ's ears. He wasn't used to seeing Michael frustrated. It wasn't reassuring.

"If you can reach it," the man assured him, "they can get there first."

"Then where's our advantage?" LJ asked. "What are we going to do that they can't touch?"

"The advantage," Kellerman said slowly, as though he was lecturing a special education class, "is in the split. For once, the company isn't anywhere close to controlling the country, and believe me, they know it. With that one move, their resources are limited."

"So who are we going after? The company or the president?" LJ pressed. He glanced over to his father, who was slowly nodding in agreement. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel pleased that he was following along and making some sense, but then the moment passed, and it was back to business.

"Which side are you?" Sara asked. Her voice had a certain urgency to it. "Which side was my father?"

"Your father was an independent player," Kellerman said, "but the president was courting him in the wake of her split, clearly. He's not company. He just got in the way." She looked somewhat taken aback at this, but he didn't allow it to stop him. "Now your father, on the other hand," and he nodded towards Michael and Lincoln, "was very much company."

"Was." Lincoln nodded slowly. "And now he's an independent player, too. So the company's out to get us, either way. But the president?"

"The president is after me," Kellerman said, his voice still firm. "I've turned on her, and she knows it. If she knew where I was right now, somebody would be on their way to kill me."

"What's the down side again?" LJ asked, and this time, nobody seemed to care enough to shush him.

"The company solved their own problem and the president's when they picked Lincoln to cover up for her brother," Michael mused aloud. "But even with this fallout, everybody's still after us. We can't trust either side. All we can do is point them towards each other."

"Exactly," Kellerman said. "Exactly. Now, you're getting it."

"So it's a stalemate?" Michael said.

"Then we've got to tip the balance," Lincoln added. He glanced at Kellerman for confirmation.

"But how do we do that?" Sara asked.

"Somebody's gotta get more power," LJ said. "But give either side more power, and all we're gonna do is wind up waist-deep in it."

"There is no easy answer," Kellerman agreed. "If there was, we wouldn't be in a cabin in the middle of nowhere."

"And you wouldn't be chained to a pipe?" Michael asked helpfully. Kellerman shrugged, acknowledging him.

"Hey, how'd you find us out here?" LJ asked suddenly, staring straight into Kellerman's face.

"We brought him out here with us," Michael said. "I'm sorry, LJ, but it's true-"

"No," LJ said. "No, no. No, he's been here before."

"What?" Michael asked. "You-" And then he blinked and the recognition settled on his face, as he quickly filed through the story that LJ had told him and reached the same conclusion. "How did you find them out here?" he demanded.

Kellerman sighed and shifted his position. "Now what makes you say that."

"He says that because one of your people was here, and because somebody else covered up his body in the well out there," Michael said, fixing him with an icy glare. Sara clapped a hand to her mouth in realization, and LJ glanced over at her long enough to shoot her a look that confirmed her epiphany. "And somewhere in between, that corpse managed to write your name out for posterity. You've been here before. Haven't you."

LJ nodded slowly in agreement as Michael spoke, putting into words what he'd already pieced together in his own head. He caught his father's alarmed expression out of the corner of his eye and tried to ignore it. There was a reason it was easier to tell his story to Michael than to Lincoln. Michael might be a freak, but at least he wouldn't freak out.

Kellerman offered a wry smile. "You really are one smart kid, LJ."

"Cut it out," LJ said. He felt nervous.

"You know if things were different, if I still had any say on hiring, I'd probably offer you a job. I mean it. For when you were old enough, of course," he added, deferring to Lincoln.

"Working for you?" LJ sniffed. He stared at his lap, feeling uncomfortable. "What kind of job? Doing to other people what you did to my family?"

"Hey. Want a beer?" Michael asked Sara, who shook her head. "Linc?" He pushed back and made his way over to the fridge.

"You got good survival instincts, like I said," Kellerman continued. "You think quickly on your feet. The way you got away from us in the first place, the way you tracked me down on your own. Not always the best decisions, but I gotta hand it to you. You should think about it. We have good benefits, you know."

LJ scoffed at him. "Yeah, and the only kind of job I want? Is bringing people like you down."

"Don't get so cocky," Kellerman warned. "Remember, thirty years ago the guy doing my job was probably your grandpa."

"And look how well that turned out," LJ said in a cool tone. He rolled his eyes and turned to Michael, who was digging through the fridge. "Hey Mike. Get me one, too."

Michael's eyes bugged out only slightly. "Uh-" He fished for a response. "Linc?" The tone of his voice sounded like he was asking more for help than for permission.

"No way," Lincoln said immediately.

"What?" LJ asked. "You think I never had one before?"

"I certainly hope you haven't, you're sixteen."

"Yeah? I bet you drank beer when you were sixteen."

"Wrong. Example."

"C'mon, Dad. I earned it."

Lincoln sighed and ran his hand over his head. "Fine. Whatever." At the shocked look from Sara, he added, "Hey, look, I dropped out of the running for the father of the year award a long time ago." LJ grinned and straightened up in his seat as Michael passed him a beer with a wink. He screwed off the top and dropped the cap onto the ottoman beside his book before taking a cautious sip. It tasted like shit, but he'd done worse. On a dare, of course.

"All right," Michael said. "Let's focus, people. I want to know key players." He paced back and forth in front of Kellerman, sipping neatly out of his own beer bottle. "Tell me what you know."

"Besides Reynolds?" Kellerman asked. "She keeps things quiet, and most of the people I could name are irrelevant. Some of her best people have been casualties of this thing too, you know." He stared directly at LJ. "Haven't they."

LJ just took another swig of beer in response and ignored him. He didn't see any reason to designate that with an answer.

Kellerman gave up and pressed on. "She has a new man now, Kim. He's based out of the White House. I don't know where he came from. But he's more hung up on his own status than on getting things done. He could be a weakness. But other than that, I don't know."

"And the company," Sara said, but Kellerman was shaking his head. "Who's in the company?"

"That's just it. You don't know who else is in it until it's too late. You want to know who's in the company, you track down their father." He nodded at the other two grown men in the room.

Lincoln and Michael exchanged a glance.

"You wonder why people are after him? Why you're caught up in this? Because he's a loose cannon, with too much information. Nobody, in any of this, is supposed to have any more information than they need. I know I don't."

"How do we find him?" Michael asked.

"We don't," Lincoln said simply. "If anybody could find him, he wouldn't be alive right now, would he?" Kellerman merely raised his eyebrows in confirmation. "We wait for him to come to us."

"And nobody knows where we are," Sara said.

LJ slid down in his seat a little. His head already felt funny – warm, floaty. Buzzed. Oddly contented. Like when he and Josh Hempner drank that six-pack of wine coolers in his basement last summer. It was a good feeling. Better than the feeling he'd had before, anyway. Even though the beer tasted like shit.

"There's got to be a way to contact him," Michael said. "He's out there somewhere. The question is, would it help us, or hurt us?" He stared off into space, and LJ could see the wheels turning. He was Michaeling. That was what Lisa used to call it, when he would come over for dinner and sit there quietly, in another world, processing something that didn't have anything to do with them or what they were talking about. And then he'd answer a question and you'd realize he was right there with you the whole time. Just Michaeling away. It used to make Lisa nervous, but LJ didn't mind.

"Do you think he's trying to find us?" Lincoln asked. "He knows we're out here somewhere, he's got to be following the news."

"Hell of a time for him to be trying," Michael said. "He had plenty of time before, you know." Lincoln shot him a warning look and Michael turned away in disgust.

"There is one thing," Kellerman said. "It's a long shot, though."

"What is it?" Sara sighed.

"If I can get to the company's offices. I don't know if they've changed my security clearance yet. If I can get in and get to their files-"

"They have an office?" Sara echoed in disbelief. "They have files?"

"You still have security clearance?" Michael added, his tone just as skeptical.

"Clearly, not common knowledge," Kellerman admitted. "But if I could get in-"

"How do you plan to do that?" Sara asked. "They're just going to let you stroll in off the street? Just because they forgot?"

"Maybe," Kellerman said. "And if not, there are other ways."

"Does anybody else think that's the stupidest idea ever?" LJ blurted out.

"Yes," Michael said. Their eyes met for a moment and LJ felt vindicated once more. "Work on another plan, Paul, you're not going anywhere near that place."

"I'm offering to take you directly to the heart of the beast here. You're just going to brush that aside?"

LJ glared at him. "What, now you're Brer fucking Rabbit?"

"If you'd like to tell us where it is, I'd be happy to check it out," Michael said, calmly ignoring LJ. "But you? Going there? I don't think so."

"Fine," Kellerman said, rolling his eyes. "Go ahead. Defeat yourselves. Be my guest."

Michael sighed. "You know what, if this is the best we got for now, I say we sleep on it."

"Sleep?" Lincoln echoed.

"Yeah," Michael said. "Something we used to do a lot of."

Lincoln glanced around. "LJ and I, we'll take the bedroom," he said, and nobody questioned this, least of all LJ, who didn't feel comfortable sleeping in the living room for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that he knew he would wake up expecting Veronica to be there, and he couldn't take that, not now.

He reached for the book and hopped to his feet, making his way across the small cabin towards the room. He had just reached the door when he heard a sharp grunt and a moan from behind him. He whirled around quickly, just in time to see Kellerman reeling back, Lincoln towering over him, and Michael and Sara looking on in horror.

Lincoln shook his fist out as Kellerman emitted a second low, pained moan. LJ bit his lip quickly. It was a terrible time to smile. He had to hide it.

"Don't you ever," Lincoln said slowly, "even think for a moment about fucking with my kid, ever again."

He didn't look at LJ, just turned, his eyes to the ground, made his way across the cabin, and pushed past him into the room. LJ's eyes followed his father, still biting back his grin, before he pulled the door shut.


	5. Daybreak

He dreamed he was in jail.

Not the courthouse in Illinois, not the detention center in Arizona, but in Fox River, with his dad, and his uncle, and all the others. Except that nobody seemed to know him, and he was alone, and Veronica was in the visitor room. And he was in the cage, just like his father used to be, and the officer standing over him was Nick. And then Nick pulled him out of the cage, uncuffed him, and threw him forcefully, and he was flying, flying over the wall… He was dreaming… It was a dream, and he knew it, and he could fly in this dream… it was okay, nobody could hurt him, not like this… and then his father was on one side of him, and his mother on the other, and then they landed in a field, where a picnic was waiting for them, a picnic of hot dogs and cole slaw and coca cola, and he didn't want to wake up, he just wanted to see what happened next…

LJ blinked his eyes open. Sunlight was peeking in through the window, and something felt… odd. He rolled over, blinking towards the window, and saw his father silhouetted against the light, leaning against the headboard. Lincoln was awake, and staring right at him.

He blinked again.

"Hi?" LJ asked.

"Sorry." Lincoln rolled over and climbed out of the bed on the other side. The bed creaked and bowed as he moved. LJ wondered how long he'd been watching him sleep. On the one hand, it was unnerving, and on the other hand, it was strangely… comforting, to know that while he slept, he was being watched.

"Sleep okay?" LJ said. He stretched, angling his arms over his head.

"Well enough," Lincoln said, then hesitated. "Don't sleep so well anymore, lately. How about you?"

"Decent. You used to sleep through anything," LJ said. "I couldn't wake you up even when I wanted to." He grinned and set his hands down, then scooted back to lean against the headboard. He pulled the covers up. It was surprisingly chilly in here for an early summer morning. But then, that was Wisconsin.

"Got a lot on my mind," Lincoln admitted.

LJ offered a wry smile as he rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Never pegged you for the thinker."

"Hey. Your dad has more smarts than you might think, huh?"

"I know, I'm just-" LJ shook his head. He blinked once more, his head slowly clearing. "What do you think? About that guy out there in the living room?"

"I think he's dangerous," Lincoln said slowly, "but I also think he's our best chance, and I think between you, me, Michael and the doctor, we have the upper hand."

"He's a sociopath, Dad," LJ said, lowering his voice. "That guy is seriously sick. I wish you coulda heard some of the things he said to me. Back when you were still in prison. The way he taunted me about my mom… about framing me…" He caught his voice rising, and he licked his lips and lowered his tone. "I don't buy it. He doesn't want to help us, he just knows he has to."

"You let me and Mike worry about him," Lincoln said. "He's our problem now. All I want you to worry about is that book report. How is it so far?"

Right. Daniel. "It's okay," he said. He licked his lips again. "I'm kinda into it, I guess. I'll probably finish it today."

"Good!' Lincoln sounded cheerful for the first time since they'd arrived. "I like that. Seeing you reading. That's good. What's it about?"

"It's… about a kid whose parents both went to the electric chair," LJ said. He didn't know why, he just felt daring. He knew it was a risky thing to reveal. He glanced away.

"What?" Lincoln asked abruptly. He stiffened. "Where did you find that?"

"It was Nick's. It's good," he said defensively. "Real good. It's just…"

"A little close to home, huh?" Lincoln asked. He tried to force a grin, but didn't do too well. It didn't reach his eyes. "Well, we got through that. And here we are."

"Here we are," LJ echoed.

They both fell silent for a moment. Lincoln turned to face the window. "Was that true, what he said last night? 'Bout Adrian."

"What?" LJ asked in surprise. "That he killed him?"

"That he… hit you."

"Oh." LJ shrugged uncomfortably. "Hey look, I don't even know where he got that from, and it wasn't… it wasn't bad or nothing. He was always kind of a wuss." He licked his lips. "It's okay, Dad. Adrian saved my life. He was a decent enough guy, really. And maybe I deserved it for being such a smartass. "

Lincoln turned around. "I don't want you to think for a second that you deserved this. Any of this."

"Okay…" LJ said, hesitating.

"Cause you are a smartass. But that doesn't give anybody an excuse for what's happened to you."

LJ had to choke back a snicker. "Okay." He grinned down at the covers.

"Good." Lincoln took a deep breath and clasped his hands together. "Hungry?"

LJ shrugged. He wasn't, really, but he wasn't about to stop his father from fixing breakfast for him, either, not if he wanted to. "Sure."

Some things, at least, were kind of perfect right now.

He reached for the book on the bedside table as Lincoln exited the room. And he hadn't even cracked it before he heard the shout from the living room. "Michael!"

The tone in his father's voice was alarming. Very alarming. He shot out of bed and was in the living room in a second. Michael was just beginning to stir in the chair, Sara was blinking awake on the couch, and-

"What the hell?" LJ breathed. "Where'd he go?"

"Michael!" Lincoln shouted again, and LJ wasn't sure that he'd ever heard his father quite so angry. He flinched back in spite of himself, even though he wasn't the one in hot water this time. It was still scary whenever his father bellowed like that.

"Where's Kellerman?" Michael asked in alarm, jumping into consciousness as he looked around, pulling the blanket up with him.

"He was there," Sara said. "He was secure-"

Lincoln grabbed LJ roughly by the shoulders. "Go in the back," he said. He pushed him towards the bedroom. "Go. In. The back. The guns…" He whirled around. "Michael, where'd you put them?"

Michael was already out of bed and stumbling towards the closet. He threw the doors open and pulled out a box. LJ stopped in his tracks to turn around and stare. Of course they'd moved the guns after the day before. Of course they didn't trust him after he pulled a gun on their captive, the one who just busted out when nobody was looking. It practically made him want to scream. "He didn't get them," Michael said. "Everything's here."

"What about the one he had?" Sara asked. She dove for the suitcase in the corner. "Gone," she said almost immediately, although the stricken expression on her face was all they needed.

"Linc," Michael said, his head shaking ever so slightly, "I-"

"I know," Lincoln said impatiently. "How far could he have gotten? The cars? Are they-?"

"Still there," LJ said. He'd already made his way over to the window.

"Get away from there," Lincoln ordered again, and LJ stumbled backwards, chagrined. "Everybody stay away from the windows. He could be watching, and he's armed."

"He won't take us out like that," LJ whispered. "He'll want to taunt us first… He hates me…"

"I don't understand," Sara said. "He came with us – willingly - he told me to tie him up… he volunteered…"

"He woulda turned no matter what," LJ said from the doorway of the bedroom. He clutched the door frame. "It just happened faster cause I got here." He rubbed a hand up and down, feeling the rough wood beneath his fingers, staring at his well-chewed fingernails. "He's like a shark. Smells blood and the chase is back on…"

"Hey," Michael said, cutting him off with a warning glance. His eyes flicked over to Sara, who still looked rather distraught, then back to LJ, who got it.

"We gotta go," Lincoln said suddenly. "We don't know how far he's gotten, or who he might be bringing here now that he knows where we are. All it takes is one call to the police, and…" His voice trailed off. "Grab everything you can. We're leaving. Right now."

LJ wasted no time, scrambling into the bedroom and grabbing his duffel bag. He tossed his book into it, and ripped off the t-shirt and sweats he'd slept in, pulling on his jeans and a fresh t-shirt instead. He didn't change the socks he'd slept in, just shoved his feet into his boots and returned to the living room, where the adults were similarly completing a rapid-fire packing job.

"We take one car," Michael said, breathing rather heavily. "We're not splitting up."

"Agreed," Lincoln said. "LJ, is that everything?"

"That's everything," LJ confirmed. "Don't forget the guns."

Everyone turned to the closet. Lincoln looked back at him. "Right," he said. Michael grabbed for the box.

"I'll check to make sure the coast is clear," Sara said.

"Sara, no," Michael said.

"I'm the one he's least likely to hurt." She stretched out her hand. "Give me one."

Michael obliged and handed her a weapon. "Be careful with that," he said.

"I know how to use this," she said. "I worked in a correctional facility, remember. Wait here." She shouldered her own bag and opened the door carefully.

"This is unbelievable," LJ muttered. "This is unreal…"

"Hey," Lincoln said, "It'll be okay."

LJ rolled his eyes. "You say that," he said, "and all you manage to do is convince me that you don't know this guy."

"Clear," Sara hissed, poking her head back in the door. "Guys. Come on."

Lincoln put his hand on LJ's shoulder. "I want you to stay low going out there. He might still be out of sight. We get in the car, I want you in the backseat, your head down. If anybody's going to be a target, it's not going to be you."

"Or you," LJ said, alarmed.

"Go!"

LJ scrambled across the gravel, trying to erase unpleasant flashbacks from the siege on the cabin. He expected shots to ring out at any moment, but nothing happened. Not this time. He opened the door and crawled into the backseat, tossing his bag on the seat and securing himself on the floor. He didn't breathe until Michael and Lincoln were in the car, the door was closed, and Sara was driving them down the road.

"Now where do we go?" LJ asked, twisting around to try and catch a glimpse of Michael, who was low in the front seat. Lincoln had joined him in the back and was now leaning his head back against Michael's seat, his eyes closed. "Canada?"

"Where would we go in Canada?" Lincoln asked, not opening his eyes.

"Hell, anywhere, I don't know. They can't extradite you, right?"

"They can't," Lincoln said, "but they can extradite your uncle."

"How's that work?" LJ asked in surprise.

"Death penalty," he said simply, and LJ immediately wished he hadn't asked. The thought of turning into Daniel after all made him shiver just a little. "Where do you think Kellerman's going?" Lincoln asked.

"I don't know," Michael said, "and I don't care, as long as we don't see him again. LJ was right. He was never going to help us. If LJ hadn't shown up, he probably would have turned on us later. But once he saw things weren't going his way anymore, he bailed." His fist struck the dashboard with a surprisingly loud thump, causing LJ to jump slightly in the back.

"Last night?" Sara spoke up from the driver's seat. "He gave me the address for the company office. It's in Denver. Colorado."

Silence settled over the car. LJ glanced over at his father and saw Lincoln's eyes fly open.

"When was that?" Michael demanded.

"You were in the bathroom."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"I figured we'd talk about it in the morning," she said. "I didn't think he'd…" She shook her head.

"Well, we're not going there, right?" LJ asked. "Clearly, it's a trap."

"We've walked into them before," Michael pointed out. "If that really is the place where they have every paper, every document you can't find somewhere else…"

"What good are papers going to do us?" Lincoln asked. "Besides, you think he'd give us the real address?"

"Yeah, was he by any chance talking when he gave it to you?" LJ piped up. "Because usually when he does that, he's lying."

"Perceptive," Michael noted.

"That's me," LJ said, feeling only slightly uncomfortable. "I'm a criminal of perception." He glanced down at the bag beside him.

"What?" Michael asked. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," LJ said. He reached into the side pocket and pulled the book out to stare at it again. He shifted slightly, wedging himself on the floor more securely. The vehicle was still bouncing around too much to read. He'd get carsick. "Just something from my book."

Lincoln glanced at him, alarmed, but LJ just tucked his head to the side, staring at the cover.

"I want to find him," Michael said firmly. "If we're going to take anybody down, Kellerman's going with them."

"You find him," Lincoln said in a low voice, "and I'll take care of the rest." He glanced across the seat to his son, but LJ couldn't meet his father's eyes.

LJ set the book down on the seat and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling of the car. He allowed himself a small, secret smile, hidden behind his hand for safekeeping. And across from him, the large form of his father shifted positions, tucking his head to the side and closing his eyes.

Now, at last, LJ watched him, feeling oddly contented as he crouched on the floor of the car and they raced towards an uncertain future.


	6. The Rest

The car was an hour down the highway before Michael and Lincoln finally decided that it was okay to get up from the floor of the car and sit like normal people.

"And buckle your seatbelt," Lincoln ordered LJ, who managed to keep his reaction to an eyeroll as he snapped it together. His father was fast approaching the point of ridiculousness and sooner or later LJ was going to have to put him in his place. Hopefully later.

"Guys? I hate to say it," Sara said, glancing at a passing sign, "but I really could use a rest stop."

"Yeah, same here," LJ said with relief. He glanced at his uncle.

"I don't see why not," Michael said. "We seem to be making good time. Linc, can you reach my bag? The one with the hats?"

LJ was closer and zipped the bag open before his father could get to it. He pulled out a fisherman's bucket hat himself. "Ooh! Dibs on this one." He plopped it onto his head and twisted in the seat to try and catch a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror. "Wicked."

"Here," his father said, passing him a pair of sunglasses. "Your eyes. Too recognizable."

"Some of us are legally exonerated, you know," LJ said, even as he took them and slid them on.

"Yeah, but the last thing we need is somebody to recognize you and put two and two together," Michael said, accepting a baseball hat as Lincoln passed it to the front. "Don't underestimate the amount of media coverage you got in all of this. Don't act suspicious, don't stare, and don't make eye contact with anybody."

"Right, cause slinking around with hats and sunglasses? Is totally not suspicious," LJ said.

"It's a sunny day," Sara pointed out as she pulled the car onto the exit ramp and applied the brake. "I'm not worried until it starts to rain, really."

"We might have to do something about your hair sooner or later," Michael said, looking LJ up and down. "It's pretty distinctive."

"C'mon," LJ said, feeling nervous and pulling the hat down a little more, "everybody has this haircut now."

"I don't know," Michael said.

"I'm not cutting my hair."

"Well," Michael said, squinting at him, "if you don't want to do anything about the hair, we could always try and pass you off as a girl. That'd throw 'em off, I think."

LJ reached out and lightly socked Michael's arm where it was propped over the back of the seat. "Yeah. I don't think so." Michael drew back, wincing and grinning, rubbing his arm.

"Maybe we could get some food," Sara suggested.

"I'm hungry, too," LJ said.

"Here." Michael twisted around and handed him a handful of ones. "Get yourself something out of the vending machines. Enough for the day if you can." LJ tried to contain his disappointment as Michael passed more bills to Lincoln and set some aside for Sara. "Might be awhile before we all get out again."

The car pulled to a stop and LJ checked his reflection over Sara's shoulder one more time before climbing out, his eyes cast to the ground, consciously trying to look as nondescript as possible. He started for the vending machine, then felt a hand on his arm. He jumped. It was only Michael.

"Let's go to the bathroom first, okay?" Michael asked. The tone in his voice didn't leave much of an option, and he followed. His interest was piqued.

He jogged to catch up with Michael who was trailing after Lincoln. Once they reached the men's room, Lincoln immediately bent down to peek under the stalls, checking for occupants, and Michael grabbed a nearby cleaning sign, shoved it in front of the door, and closed it quickly.

"What's going on?" LJ asked. He could barely see with the lower light inside. He pulled the sunglasses off and dropped them in his pocket.

"I don't trust her," Lincoln said, turning around to face Michael. "He talked to her when we weren't there."

"But she told us," Michael said.

"How do we know she told us everything? She's the one who brought him to us in the first place."

"She helped us," Michael protested. LJ shifted his weight nervously. He actually did have to pee. At least they weren't excluding him anymore. "More than once." The last statement had a pointed edge to it.

"I know you have feelings for her," Lincoln said, and LJ glanced up in surprise, "but you have to put that aside. We can't trust anybody. The only people I trust are right here with me." He hit the wall for emphasis. Michael jumped. "She's one of them, Michael. Her father was one of them."

"Our father was one of them, Linc," Michael reminded him.

Lincoln shook his head. "We can keep her around, but if we do go after Steadman, we've got to keep her in the dark. She might tip them off."

"Steadman?" LJ blurted in surprise. "As in Terrence?"

Michael nodded quickly. "Yeah. Long story, we're pretty sure he's alive, and we think that's the reason Veronica got killed."

"What?" LJ demanded. "What do you mean alive?" He looked at his father for help, but Lincoln was deliberately looking away. "What really happened to Veronica?"

"It's too dangerous to go track him down directly," Michael said. LJ hung his head. He knew when he was being ignored. He didn't care, though, not if Michael was Michaeling. "But if we can find something, anything, at this place Kellerman told her about, maybe we should try."

"Or maybe," Lincoln said, "we should just dump the girl, and book it for Panama. I'm sorry," he said quickly to Michael, "but it's just not the right time, and we all know the guy was probably setting us up."

"Of course he's setting us up. And we're not dumping Sara," Michael said. "Not without any proof she's working against us. You're being irrational now, Linc."

"But I don't want to quit," LJ insisted. "Not now."

"We don't have any options left," Lincoln said. He leaned back on the sink. LJ turned to the urinal and unzipped his pants with a sigh.

"I want to see the building in Denver," Michael said. "Scope it out. See what we're up against before we just give up and walk away."

"Bet they'll know we're coming," Lincoln said. "Couldn't we just wait a few days? Go find Sucre or something. Get them off their guard."

LJ zipped his pants back up and moved over to the sink to wash his hands. "If anybody cares, I think any plan to avoid Kellerman is stupid. If he wants to find us? He'll find us."

Michael exhaled. "He's right," he said to Lincoln. "We can run, or we can try to fight back. And only one of those options gives us a chance of actually ending this."

"Fine," Lincoln said, "but in the meantime, what do we do about the doctor?"

LJ looked back and forth between the two of them as he wiped his hands on his pants. He wanted her to be trustworthy. He wanted somebody other than Michael and Lincoln to depend on. But he also knew that this one wasn't his decision to make.

"We've got to know for sure," Michael said with a sigh. "But leave that to me." He was Michaeling again.

"Hello?" Somebody was pounding on the door. "Who's in there?"

LJ scrambled in his pocket for his glasses and shoved them back onto his face as the door was forced open. Some guy in a set of coveralls stuck his head in. Some guy who looked like a rest stop employee. "Uh, sorry," Michael said. "Door kinda fell shut by accident, I think."

"No worries," the man said, propping it open and waving a hand.

"We're going," Michael said, and Lincoln exhaled.

The conversation was clearly finished. LJ nodded to his father and uncle before tripping off in the direction of the vending machines.

He studied the selection. It was too early for an ice cream bar or chips, but he might want chips later. And unlike the ice cream, the chips would at least last. He purchased a bag of potato chips and studied the options. Chocolate chip muffins. That would work. He punched in another set of buttons, pulled out the food, and stepped back to study the soda machine.

"'Scuse me." LJ leapt back in annoyance as a small dark-haired kid shoved around him.

"Hey, watch it?" he snapped at the kid. But the kid ignored him and started shoveling quarters into the machine. He punched a button and a bag of M&Ms started to drop, then froze where it was, trapped by an errant Doritos bag.

"Aw, crap," the kid said. "Mom!" He dashed off. "Help!"

LJ tucked his food under his arm and fed two more dollars into the coke machine for a Mountain Dew. The bottle dropped down and he fished the change out of the slot.

"Let's see," a woman's voice said, walking into the pavilion with the snot-nosed pushy kid. "Maybe we can get it out of there." She studied the machine and reached for her purse.

LJ moved over to another machine. Maybe he should get some gum, for after breakfast. It was pretty close quarters in that car, after all.

"Excuse me?" He turned to where the woman was struggling with the machine. "Do you have change for a dollar?"

"Here," he said with a sigh, handing her his extra quarters. She passed the bill over.

"Thanks, dear," she said with relief.

Dear. He cringed inside. He tucked the bill aside – the vending machines didn't like this one – and fed another one into his own machine, selecting a pack of spearmint gum.

"There you go, sweetie," the woman said, presenting her little brat with his M&Ms. He clutched it and dashed off down the hill for the car, as she fell into place behind him. They were parked right beside the fugitives. Of course. Since his day hadn't sucked enough so far. He shook his head, bought a final packet of crackers, and then followed, balancing his food in his arms.

Michael was already standing beside the car. LJ glanced up the hill and saw his father jogging the sidewalk around the rest stop. He didn't know why it surprised him – after all, Lincoln had to have some way to stay in shape. Maybe he should start weightlifting with his father or something. A little father-son bonding activity couldn't hurt at this point. "That's all you want?" Michael asked in surprise.

"Should I get more?" LJ asked.

"Gonna be a long drive."

"Huh." LJ opened the door to set his food down, then closed it and straightened back up. He didn't want to sit down just yet. It felt good to stretch his legs. He stretched his arms up, too, and watched as the kid chased his little sister around the parking lot and the mother rolled her eyes at them. He hoped they got hit by a car. It wasn't a good day to be cheerful, not around LJ Burrows.

He remembered when he used to be like that. Running around like an insane monkey. Not caring who saw him or what they remembered about him.

Things were different now.

In fact…

A sudden thought struck him, and he crouched down, pretending to be stretching his muscles, and studied the bottom of the car. After a moment, he moved as low as he could, pressing his head on the asphalt, looking up.

"Hey. What are you doing?" Michael asked, appearing over him. His tone was less one of accusation, and more one of curiosity.

LJ's fingers traced the underside of the car. He'd want to wash his hands again before he ate. It was filthy under here. Something moved with just his light touch. Like a magnet. His heart leapt. He plucked it off and stood up, holding it out for Michael to see. Michael's eyes widened but he made no sound.

He looked up the hill at the nearest trashcan, but Michael shook his head, and LJ nodded in agreement. He bent down again, this time leaning over to the car beside them, and his fingers quickly placed the little object securely beneath it, feeling the tug as it clung to the metal surface.

He straightened back up. Michael looked somewhat pale. "D'you think there's more?" LJ whispered as quietly as he could.

"I don't know," Michael said, "but we don't have time to sit here and find out." He ducked down as well and started feeling beneath the car, and after a moment, LJ joined him.

"I think it's good," LJ said after a moment. He stood up and they stared at each other, with matching faces of horrified relief.

"I know a place where you could get some great benefits," Michael said slowly.

"Yeah, cause what I really need right now is a 401K," LJ said. He didn't know what to do other than make a funny, but at least Michael cracked a sly grin. "Should we tell Dad?"

Michael shook his head, squinting up the hill as Lincoln rounded into view again. "Your dad is freaked out enough." LJ nodded in vehement agreement. "And there's nothing we can do about it at this point. They already know we came this far."

Sara appeared around the far side of the car. She'd pulled her hair back into a ponytail and shoved it beneath a wide-brimmed hat. LJ pulled back against the car nervously, shoving both hands into his pockets and glancing at the ground.

"Hey," Michael said, greeting her warmly, "I was just gonna go for a jog around the place. Wanna come?"

"Sure," Sara said. She pulled off her hat and shook her ponytail out. As the two of them stepped away together, Michael turned around and shot LJ a look over his shoulder. He got it. Michael was up to something. He was Michaeling.

LJ checked to make sure the car doors were locked, and then made his way up the hill back to the restroom, where he scrubbed the car grime from his hands and then pulled the glasses off and splashed water onto his face. He stared at his dripping face in the mirror. He looked more like his father than he thought. He wondered how much they would resemble each other if he shaved his head to match. But then he remembered why it had been shaved all the way, and he reached for the sunglasses as quickly as he could.

By the time he returned to the car with a packet of cupcakes and a bag of pepperoni pizza Combos, everyone looked ready to go. He glanced over at the van beside them. The kid was buckled into the backseat and yelling about something LJ couldn't quite hear.

Whoever was tracking that dot – Kellerman, or somebody else – would be following the kid's family now until they realized the mistake. That kid hadn't done anything wrong, he'd just been a little impatient at the candy machine, that was all, his mom had picked an unfortunate parking space, and now he was going to be directly in the line of fire. And somehow, LJ didn't care. Nobody else cared when he fell into the line of fire, except for his father.

Maybe Kellerman was right. Maybe he did have what it took. After all, it did run in the family. His grandfather had been one of the best, hadn't he?

"C'mon, let's go," Lincoln said to him, and LJ opened the door and climbed into the backseat, scooting his food aside and pulling the door shut behind him. Sara and Michael had switched seats without comment.

They pulled out of the parking lot behind the van. He knew what Michael was doing, or at least he had a vague idea, and he relaxed. They were on top of this. If there was a way to win this, they would win it. All he had to do was stay on his guard until they did. And he was pretty much used to that by now.

"You bought cupcakes and Mountain Dew?" Lincoln asked in dismay, staring at the seat between them.

"What?" LJ asked. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong unless you want to be made of sugar. I got some extra water and some nuts and stuff. Make sure you balance what you're eating. You wanna be strong right now."

"I always feel strong when I drink Mountain Dew," he muttered. "And what are we supposed to do? Dad, we're eating out of vending machines."

In response, Lincoln held out one of the bottles of water. "You'll get dehydrated," he said.

LJ sighed and took the bottle. "Thanks," he said. He hesitated. He was about to say something, something about how it was enough, really, how his dad didn't have to try so hard to make up for all the time he'd missed, but then he stopped himself. He didn't really want to complain. He never thought he would like having somebody nag him about homework and healthy eating, but it did feel better right now. Maybe his automatic reaction was to whine and complain, but the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to do that. Instead, he unscrewed the water bottle and took a sip. He was thirstier than he thought. He gulped another large amount of water.

"So, about that book report?" he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. "I think I'm gonna need an extension."

"Fine," Lincoln sighed. "Don't think you're off the hook, though."

"Nope," LJ said. "I'm on it. Just as soon as we stop somewhere."

"And where would that be, exactly?" Sara asked. "Where are we going, Michael?"

Michael barely moved, only his long fingers drummed slowly on the steering wheel as he contemplated his reply. "We're going to 'em," he said at last.

LJ took another sip of his water. His father was right. It was a good time to be strong and healthy. Especially if they were going to be fighting back, starting now. He was going to be ready.


	7. Connecting

LJ was awakened from his nap by the sudden silence underneath his head as the car rolled fully to a stop.

He blinked his eyes open and looked around. The sun was almost completely beneath the horizon. "So how are we gonna do this?" Lincoln was asking, leaning over the seat and addressing Michael in a low tone.

"Uh-" Michael glanced at Sara. LJ struggled to sit up. Michael wore a nervous expression. "One room would be pretty crowded. We can spring for two, I think."

"And how do we want to divide that?" Sara asked, as though the answer wasn't obvious to most of them.

"Well," Michael said, "As much as it'd be nice to let you have your privacy and all, I don't think any of us should sleep alone."

"LJ can stay with me, then," she said, glancing over the back of the seat with a twinkle in her eye. At least somebody had noticed that he was awake. "I'm sure he'll protect me if the big bad men come in the middle of the night."

"Sure, if Dad lets me have a gun," LJ said as he rubbed his eyes.

"No chance," Lincoln said.

"C'mon!" LJ protested, but the argument seemed to be closed as far as Lincoln was concerned.

"Do you mind sharing a room with me?" Michael asked. "We'll get two beds. Of course."

"No, that's fine," Sara said. "I'd appreciate the company."

They sounded so professional and formal. Like they were talking about a business transaction instead of something that could lead to… well, LJ had a distinct feeling as to where it might lead. Even Lincoln looked uncomfortable.

"So I'll get the rooms if you guys wait here," Sara said. Michael fished in his wallet and handed her a stack of bills.

"Connecting," Michael reminded her as she climbed out, and she waved a hand. She nodded crisply.

"Maybe we can catch the Cubs game if it's on," Lincoln said, fishing for the tattered newspaper they'd been passing around the car all day. "You think they'd be showing it way out here?"

LJ watched in the direction that Sara had waltzed off in. "Probably," he said distractedly.

"Can't remember the last time I got to sit and watch the Cubs," Lincoln murmured.

"She'll be fine," Michael said aloud, to nobody in particular. "She's only going to be out of our sight for five minutes. If she was planning anything, she'd have done it by now."

"You really think she's trustworthy?" LJ asked.

"Do you?" Lincoln asked directly.

LJ shifted in his seat. His arms were sticking to the door. "You really care what I think?"

"I'm starting to get that I should be asking, yeah," Lincoln said.

"I trust her," LJ said simply. "I don't have a good reason. But I believe her."

Michael chewed thoughtfully on a knuckle. He was Michaeling again, but in a different way now.

"That was quick," Sara said as she opened the door. "Okay, we have 215 and 217, right upstairs. We can leave the car here, it's this stairwell." She sorted through the keys in her hand. "For the Lincolns, room 217?"

LJ accepted the key and hopped out, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "Can I carry anything else?" he asked. "Sara, do you need a hand?" Being polite. He remembered how to do that.

"I'm fine," she said with a bright expression, "but thank you." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his father grinning a bit as he slammed the door shut, and LJ felt a wave of embarrassment and pride rolled into one.

The first thing that Lincoln did on entering the room was to head directly to the door on the side of the room and unlatch it. Moments later, the door behind it swung open, revealing Michael. LJ tried to hide his amusement. You'd think his father and uncle had been apart for a year instead of a minute by how relieved they looked to see each other.

"Perfect," Michael said, walking into their room. He stopped as Lincoln's eyes darted to the room behind him, with a plaintive look. Michael responded by shaking his head, trying to calm him down. And Lincoln merely glared back.

"If we're going to order pizza," Sara said, poking her head in, "I should probably be the one to do that too, I guess?"

Michael dug in his pocket and produced another wad of cash, which he handed over to her. "Actually, Lincoln and I need to talk," he said. "Alone." He glanced at LJ as Sara studied the cash with interest.

"What?" LJ protested, jumping up. Sara obeyed by ducking out of the room, and Lincoln pulled LJ aside.

"Just keep an eye on her for us," he whispered directly into his ear. "I'll fill you in later. I promise. But she shouldn't be alone."

He wasn't sure if it was for her safety or theirs, but LJ reluctantly pulled the book from his bag and made his way through the door into Sara and Michael's room, pulling it shut behind him.

"What kind of pizza do your dad and uncle like?" Sara asked, pulling open the phone book. "I was thinking Papa John's."

"That's good," LJ said. "They like anything, really." Anything had to beat prison food, but it probably wasn't a good idea to say that to the person who used to work at said prison.

"Oh look, there's a coupon," she said as something fell out of the drawer. "This looks good. One large pizza and an order of breadsticks ought to do us, right?"

"I dunno," LJ said. "You do realize I'm sixteen and I haven't eaten much today?"

"Right," she said. "We'll go for the two medium pizzas with the cheesesticks then."

He nodded, satisfied. "Pepperoni's good."

As she picked up the phone to make the call, he studied the room. The pictures over the beds were exactly the same in this room. He got an eerie feeling around perfectly made motel rooms now. Especially after waking up in the bedroom of the cabin in New Glarus that morning. He could still hear that awful man talking to him calmly about cleaning up messes and how nice it would be. He wondered if he'd ever be able to just relax in a hotel room again.

Sara hung up the phone and turned around. "Pizza's on the way." He nodded and pulled out the little chair on wheels at the desk, sitting down in it and fingering his book as she began to dig through her suitcase. "You can put on the TV if you want," she added. "Didn't Michael mention a baseball game earlier today? White Sox or something?"

"Actually, it was the Cubs," LJ said. "Cubs people. I mean, we follow the Sox and all, but my family goes for the Cubs."

"That explains so much about you all," Sara said, looking as though she'd solved the meaning of the universe and was quite happy about it. It was a moment before LJ realized that she, too, could make a funny.

"We like lost causes," LJ agreed. "And we're pretty stubborn, too."

She nodded, shooting him a conspiratorial wink. "I noticed," she said. "Loyal is probably a, uh, better word for it."

"Loyal," LJ repeated. "So you think Uncle Mike is loyal."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "To your dad, yeah, sure, I do. And to you, of course."

LJ tapped his book on the table. "He likes you, though," he said. "I mean, you can see that, right?"

"I don't know," Sara said. "I don't know him as well as you do."

"You think?" LJ sniffed. "Nobody really knows Mike. I mean, knows, like, you know. He's just… he's Michael."

"You've known him your whole life," she pointed out.

LJ just shrugged in response.

"So," Sara said, leaning forward, "do you always have the feeling that he's got about fifty things going on in his head at once, and you can only ever really know about five of them?"

"That's him," LJ confirmed. "I can't even keep up, you know. With most of it."

"Does he date a lot of women?" Sara asked.

LJ could only keep a straight face for a moment before he had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his snort. "Oh, my god," he said, choking back the laugh. "You're asking me for real…" He took a deep breath to compose himself. "I feel like I'm back in high school."

"Yeah," she said wryly, "me, too."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not laughing at you. I swear."

"Let me guess. You're laughing with me," Sara said, tilting her head, "as soon as I start laughing?"

"I'm just laughing at Mike," he said, finally regaining his composure and managing to nod solemnly. "I laugh at him a lot. Somebody has to."

"Of course," Sara said, nodding just as solemnly.

"What about you?" LJ asked. It occurred to him that this was exactly what Lincoln and Michael were so worked up about, and here was the perfect opportunity to do a little reconnaissance. "I mean, are you… you know. Interested in him?"

Sara looked away. She wasn't exactly smiling. "I don't think it's appropriate for you to be asking me that, LJ."

"Then you ask me one," LJ said.

"Okay," she said, leaning forward. "Have you kissed a girl?"

"Of course," he said, feeling somewhat proud.

"Have you ever had a real girlfriend?"

He bit his lip. "Uh…"

"Come on!" she prodded.

"No," he said, embarrassed.

"Really?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "I'd think the girls would be all over you."

"Well, if I wasn't on the run from the government, maybe they would be," he pointed out. "I went steady with one girl for a whole week freshman year. But she dumped me…" He looked away, embarrassed. "She dumped me when she found out who I was."

"Who you were?" Sara echoed.

"My dad," he explained.

"Aw, jeez," Sara muttered. "Really?"

"I dunno," LJ said. "Maybe she just decided I wasn't her type."

"You're too good for a girl like that," Sara said firmly. "Anybody who would break up with you just because of who your parents are?" Then she stopped, as though she was realizing something. "Well," she said, in a somewhat satisfied tone. "Well…"

"Keep telling me that?" LJ asked. "Please."

She shrugged. She still didn't look happy. "I think I need to be telling myself this."

LJ hesitated for a second. "We almost met before, you know."

"We did?" If Sara was surprised by the change in topic, she managed to keep it in check.

"Yeah. When you came to see Nick and Veronica. I remember when you were there. Did you know I was hiding in the back?"

"No," she said softly. "I didn't. You were supposed to be missing then, if I recall." She tilted her head and studied him with new interest.

"Yeah, I was with Nick and Veronica the whole time."

She nodded, biting her lip. "I probably could have guessed that."

"They were real excited after you left. They thought we might get somewhere, legally. But we didn't. I mean, I know you tried. I could tell. I was listening. But see, this is why we gotta do stuff ourselves. Instead of waiting on other people. You gotta do stuff you can control." He hesitated. "I think… I think Uncle Mike kinda falls into that category, too. You can't just sit around and wait for him, you know?"

"Duly noted," Sara said. "I would say the same thing to you. How many girls did you ask out, anyway?"

LJ tried to hide a blush. He ducked his head. "Um…"

"You're a good-looking kid. I can't believe they weren't interested." He glanced away. He didn't want her to see his reaction to that. It wasn't that they weren't interested. "You know what, if things get back to normal, that's the first thing I want to see you do. Ask out a girl your own age."

LJ licked his lips. "Look, respectfully? I don't need a mom right now." He clambered to his feet and stretched his arms out. "Have you looked at my old man lately, you know, the one on overdrive? He's doing enough to make up for, like, five parents."

"You don't seem to mind too much," she said with a grin.

"I'm sure it'll get old pretty quick," he grumbled.

"Anyway, no. No. LJ, I am not even old enough to be your mother," Sara said, shaking her head.

"Yeah, well, neither was my own mom, now that you mention it."

She laughed at that. Sara had a nice laugh. Maybe it was because she kept things pent up inside so much, she was so formal and polite, that when she relaxed, it made him relax, too. "Can we settle for being friends, then? I could use a friend right now."

"Me, too," LJ said. He hesitated. "Besides, I haven't had the best luck with people who tried being a mom to me lately. It's not a good idea." He smiled wryly. "Take my word for it."

Now Sara shifted nervously on the bed. "Your mom and Veronica Donovan." He nodded, staring down at the motel carpet. "It wasn't your fault. Neither one of them."

"You don't know that. You weren't there." He stared down at his hands. He'd only wanted to make conversation, he hadn't really meant to wind up here. But here he was. He looked up at Sara. "Neither was I. I should have stayed with Veronica."

"To do what?" Sara asked gently. "Save her?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"You don't know that you could have saved her. Maybe you'd be dead, too." She shook her head. "Okay, that's too many maybes, LJ. You can't sit around all day worrying about maybes, you'll never get anywhere."

"I don't," he assured her. "Usually? The adrenaline keeps me from worrying too much during the day. It's when things slow down that I get to thinking."

"Like now," she said.

"Like now," he admitted. "I worry about everything. Staying alive. My dad. Michael. If we'll ever be normal again. If I was ever normal to start with." He stopped. Was he even still fishing for information? Was he far beyond that point? He hadn't meant to talk this much. He licked his lips. "I don't think I ever was." He started to laugh and she joined him after a moment.

"See?" she asked. "You need a friend. Somebody to talk to while your dad is still being a dad." She smiled and he had to smile back for a moment. He wanted to like her. He wanted to trust her. He wanted to pretend like she could maybe sort of be another mom for him. A mom crush. He had a mom crush on her. He couldn't… He didn't want her to die, too… He felt something stinging his eyes. He stopped smiling. "Are you okay?" Sara asked, leaning forward.

"Yeah," he said, his voice shaking. "Great."

"LJ-"

But she didn't get any farther than that, because a knock sounded on the door. "The pizza," he said, looking up.

"Right," she said. "You go in the-" But he'd already hopped up and started for the bathroom. No need to risk it. He lingered just inside by the vanity, positioning himself so that he could still see her reflection in the mirror, out of sight of the door as she opened it to accept the delivery and fork over the money. He wiped his eyes hurriedly, taking advantage of being hidden, trying to compose himself.

There was something about the doctor. Something that made him say things he didn't want to say, go places he didn't plan to go. And something that made him trust her.

The truth of it was, he was more scared of what that meant for her than for anything else.


	8. The Present

"Keep the change," she said, and only when the door was closed and locked and the smell of pizza was hitting the bathroom did LJ finally relax and emerge. He helped her position the boxes across the desk and opened one to grab a pair of slices for himself before settling back on the bed, seated Indian-style. He wasn't about to wait for Mike and his dad – if they wanted pizza, they could finish whatever the hell it was they were doing in the next room.

"So," Sara said, dabbing at the grease on her pizza with a napkin, "I want to know a little something about you, LJ Burrows, if we're going to be friends. What do you want to be when you grow up?"

He chewed thoughtfully on his breadstick. He hadn't thought much about the future lately. Not like his dad, who was all worried about his education. He used to want to be an architect, or maybe a writer. He swallowed. "One of the good guys," he said at last, then he hesitated. "The really good guys. Not the cops and stuff who tried to hurt my dad. Or, like, the guards that kicked my ass at the detention center. I want to really make things fair." He hesitated. "I mean, there's a lot of bad stuff out there, I know I can't fix it all, but…" He trailed off.

She was silent for a moment, smiling faintly. "I think you will," she said. "If anybody can do it, you can. It's not easy, you know." She dipped her crust into the garlic butter. So Sara ate her pizza backwards. Somehow, it didn't exactly seem like the kind of information Uncle Mike was fishing for. "I worked in a prison, I know those guys. There's a lot of pressure on them and very little room for humanity."

"Oh hell, no, I didn't mean work in a prison," LJ said in a rush. "I spent way too much time in them already. I'm never going back."

"So what did you mean then?"

He turned the breadstick over in his hands. "The book," he said slowly, "that I'm reading. For that homework assignment for Dad? That's what it's about. I think."

"What?"

He licked his lips, thinking it over, searching for the words. "It's kinda… I guess it's about how you go on living when you're in a country that wanted your parents dead. This kid in this book, he's just like me like that. Nobody else knows what that's like. And the book is about, like, how you go on after that."

"How _do_ you?" she asked.

"You don't," he said firmly. "He doesn't. So that's why I got a new idea. If you don't like it, change it." He stabbed his breadstick in the garlic butter for emphasis.

"Change it?"

"Change the world. That's where he messed up, in just being mad at it. I'm going to change the world." He bit off another bite of bread. "I don't know how yet is the only thing," he said around his mouthful.

She smiled. "I can get behind that. That's what Gandhi said, you know." She hesitated, looking down at her plate, as if something else had struck her.

"Gandhi was kind of lame," LJ said. "I mean, it wouldn't be so bad if he'd had more guns and stuff."

Sara coughed and nearly spit out her pizza. She dabbed at her lips with her napkin. "I hope you're kidding," she said.

"Sort of," he agreed cheerfully. He swallowed the mouthful he'd been chewing. "How did you wind up with that guy? Kellerman?"

She looked up to the ceiling. "We didn't trust him, if that's what you mean."

"He came to you, right? That's how Mike made it sound?"

"He was an opportunity," she said slowly. "We were trying to use him for what we could."

"You can't with these guys," LJ said. "It doesn't work like that."

"I get that now," she said.

"Well, good," he said.

"You don't know me. I'm not a very trusting person, LJ," she said. "Present company excluded."

"You can trust my uncle," he said slowly. "I mean that." Was he really pimping Michael out to this woman? Maybe he was. Maybe that was okay.

She looked up at him, considering this, and it was then that the door opened and Michael poked his head in. "Hey. You guys wanna come in here for a second?"

LJ glanced at Sara, who shrugged, apparently realizing, as he did, that it wasn't exactly a choice as the words might have suggested. He reached for another slice of pizza and dropped it onto his plate before standing to walk into the room. He hadn't realized just how much he was starv-

LJ stopped dead in his tracks, struck silent in surprise for the second time in as many days. He turned around to Sara, figuring that it had to be for her, his birthday had been a few weeks back, but then he realized that everyone was staring at him, and the cake was his.

"What?" he asked. "This isn't-" He saw Michael take a deep breath and glance at Lincoln, as though they were preparing to sing, and he cut them off. "Don't sing. Please." Sara grinned and leaned against the wall. "But it's not my birthday."

"I know we couldn't exactly celebrate this year," Lincoln said, sounding a little nervous, as he lit the last candle. "And I wanted to make up for it, since I missed a few of them there."

"You didn't have to," LJ said. "I mean…"

"You weren't kidding about the overdrive," he heard Sara murmur from behind him, apparently in awe.

"If we're not gonna sing, somebody's gotta blow those out before we set off the smoke detectors," Michael pointed out with dead seriousness. "That's the last thing we need right now."

"Uh – yeah," LJ said, closed his eyes and wished briefly for everything to work out, and then opened them and blew, extinguishing the candles in a puff of smoke. "How did you even get a cake in here?" It wasn't exactly the most stunning cake ever, and "HAPPY BDAY LJ" was scratched out with a plastic fork, but it did look fresh.

"Secret," Michael said, reaching for a knife. "How big do you want?"

"Whatever, is fine," he said, distracted.

He hadn't skipped his birthday, after all. They'd celebrated. Veronica had known somehow, probably from following all the court processes, or maybe she'd always known, since after all, she was around when he was younger, on and off. She hadn't told him that she remembered, though. He didn't think anybody would remember, but when he woke up that morning there was a banner hanging over the window, right in the living room with him, they must have put it up when he was sleeping, and then later on that day she brought cupcakes home, and after dinner he refused to let her and Nick sing to him, but they had presents anyway. Veronica gave him clothes, which he normally would have hated but he needed them pretty badly and she was an okay shopper, and Nick gave him a couple of CDs and a set of primers on legal practices that were designed for a high school curriculum. He'd tossed the primers pretty quickly, but he had, in fact, celebrated his birthday.

Michael handed him a slice, and he looked ridiculously happy about it, so LJ tried to smile back. He had to humor them, anyway. It was a nice gesture, and they couldn't know how much it hurt to think that he was going to keep having birthdays that would never be like the ones his mom used to throw for him. She was good at making cakes. She would never have scratched his name out in the icing with a fork, even if she was pressed for resources. She would have come up with something else. She loved making cakes.

"Just say the word when you're ready for presents," Lincoln said.

"Presents?" LJ echoed weakly.

"Do not underestimate the amount of effort your dad put into this," Michael whispered tightly behind him. "Just… humor him."

"Presents," LJ said again, trying to smile.

"Are you okay?" Lincoln asked, stepping forward with concern.

"I'm great," LJ said. "This is… this is great. Thanks." He turned away to take a bite of his cake. "It tastes… great. Dad." He forced the words out.

Sara and Michael slowly drifted together, mumbling something to each other about the cake and the pizza in the next room. LJ could only focus on the slice in front of him as he sank onto the bed. It wasn't as fresh as the cupcakes from Veronica. Had they risked anything to get this for him? Exposed themselves where they shouldn't? And why should a simple thing like a birthday cake be so… upsetting?

"Everything's gonna be okay," Lincoln said softly, sitting down beside him. He must have noticed. LJ winced. He was hoping to hide his freak out better than that. "Your uncle and me, we've got it under control. We made it this far, right?"

"I know," LJ mumbled. "I believe you. I believe in you. I have faith." That seemed like what his father would want to hear.

"If you don't want your presents," Lincoln added, "I can always have them sent back-"

"No," LJ said, looking up suddenly. "I want presents."

"Great," Lincoln said with increased vigor, leaping from the bed. "Hey Michael, what'd you do with that bag?"

"In the back," Michael said, wandering back into the room and diverting to the bathroom.

LJ watched expectantly as Michael brought out a brown paper bag. "We couldn't really wrap it," Lincoln apologized.

"That's okay," LJ said. He took the bag and eagerly opened it up. "What's this?" He pulled it out. "Holy shit," he said, then added "Language!" as his father and uncle chimed in again, grinning this time.

"An iPod?" he asked. "But…" He looked up, afraid to ask.

"And the envelope," Michael said. LJ glanced down and pulled out the envelope, then opened it to reveal a handful of iTunes cards. Much, much better than clothes and legal primers. "We figured you can use Sara's laptop to download some stuff to put on it," he said. "Don't worry, we did it all in cash. It's secure."

"I know," LJ said. Of course it was secure if Michael had approved it. Michael would only approve safe technology in these walls. But still… He looked up. He was afraid to say thanks. He was afraid to enjoy the moment. Maybe he was just afraid.

"I hope it's what you wanted," Lincoln said. "I didn't really know how to ask."

"It's… it's great," LJ said. "Thanks, Dad."

"And Mike," Lincoln said quickly.

"Thanks, Mike," he said automatically. He clutched the box to his chest. "Is that it?"

"What more did you want?" Michael asked in disbelief.

He hesitated a second, then decided that as long as he was the guest of honor, he was going to make the best of it. "I want a gun."

It was as if he'd farted in the middle of the room, or maybe announced he was joining Scientology, but everyone froze at once, staring at him.

"We have plenty to go around," LJ pointed out, feeling weak all of a sudden. "And things could get hairy."

"Nope. Out of the question," Lincoln said. "Forget it."

"Come on, Dad," he pleaded. "I know how to shoot. I tagged the guy once already. Just let me carry one. I'll keep the cartridge separate."

Lincoln just shook his head emphatically.

"Maybe we should consider it," Michael said in a low tone.

"No way," Lincoln said, looking up, his voice rising.

"Linc… what if something happens? To us? To Sara? This isn't summer camp," Michael continued.

"I know it's not summer camp, _Michael_," Lincoln snapped. "And I don't want my kid sitting in the middle of it all with a loaded revolver." He gestured wildly in LJ's direction.

"Your kid _is_ sitting in the middle of it all," Michael said patiently. "Remember? We've been over this. And knowing that kid right there, he's gonna get ahold of a gun whether you like it or not, and the only thing you can do is teach him how to use it."

LJ wasn't sure that he necessarily preferred that line of reasoning, but it did seem to have an effect on his father, who turned away, his hands rising to his head in apparent frustration.

"I'm not a kid anymore," LJ reminded him. "I'm old enough to be tried as an adult now."

Lincoln looked to him, his face stricken, as his arms fell to his sides. "I know." He licked his lips and looked away. "That's what scares me."

"I know how to shoot. I shot a guy already."

"Yeah, and look how well that ended up."

"If I'd known what I was doing in the first place, we wouldn't have that little Kellerman problem right now," LJ pointed out.

"You're a hothead," Lincoln said, shaking his head. "Just like your old man. Thank god I didn't have a weapon when I was your age, or else I might have really killed somebody."

"This isn't some street fight, Dad," LJ reminded him. "I need to be able to defend myself."

Lincoln collapsed on the bed, burying his head in his hands. "You pass my gun safety course first," he said, rubbing at his scalp.

"So, uh… is that before or after my homework is due?" LJ asked, brightening up.

"It's when we get somewhere we can do it safely," Lincoln said. He raised his head. "Until then, you stay out of the weapons, and anything at all happens, you hit the floor and get behind me and Mike. In fact, any time you can hit the floor and get behind me and Mike, just consider that a general rule of engagement."

"Cool," LJ said. He could feel the smile starting to take over his face for the first time all day. Lincoln stood up and he couldn't help but rush over to him to hug him. "Thanks, Dad." He pulled back. "For all of it. The cake, the iPod, the gun."

"It's… not exactly the birthday party I was hoping for," Lincoln said.

"Best one ever," LJ said, but even as he said the words, he knew that his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"So we've got the coke that came with the pizza here," Sara said, "but it's kinda warm."

"I'll go get some ice out of the vending machine," LJ offered, glancing up.

"I don't know," Michael said, his eyebrows turning downward with concern.

"We can't make Sara do everything," LJ said. "Come on. Just a little fresh air. I'll be right back."

"Go fast," Lincoln said.

He took the ice bucket and practically fled the room. Being in such close quarters with the man who had fathered him was starting to get downright weird. He'd only spent this much time around him on rare occasions, and even then, they were never together all the time. What did they say? Be careful what you wish for?

He opened the door to the ice machine and began to shovel the ice into the bucket. He debated whether or not to fill it to the top and then decided he might as well, just so they didn't have to come back. Being out here alone on the balcony made him nervous.

He closed the lid of the bucket, closed the door to the machine, and turned to study the parking lot. And as he did, his eyes met the eyes of someone looking right back at him.

Someone only too familiar.

LJ didn't even panic this time. Instead, he gripped the bucket tightly, and walked as fast as he could, down the balcony, opening the door to the room and closing it behind him, only breathing once he was inside.

"Guys," he said, his voice steady, "he's out there."


	9. Showdown

"Are you sure?" Michael demanded in a low but desperate voice.

"Yeah," LJ snorted. "I think I should know what the guy looks like by now."

"No, I mean, you're not just excited?"

"Oh, believe me. I am about as far from excited right now..." His voice trailed off.

Michael scooted through the connecting doorway and returned a moment later. "He's out there," he confirmed. He and Lincoln looked at each other. Sara moved to LJ's side, gently setting an arm around his shoulders. Normally it might seem weird, but somehow, he didn't mind. This was hardly a normal situation. He was shaking, just a little. He wiped his arm across his forehead. He was sweating a little, too.

"We've got food," Lincoln said too quickly. "We can ration it. Hole up in the bathroom, he can't get in-"

"Be reasonable. We've got to go out eventually," Michael argued. "And if he realizes that's what we're doing, he'll just call the cops. We're walking right into it."

"Let him call the cops," Lincoln insisted. "So what if you and me go back to prison? At least that way Sara and LJ get off okay. If we don't shoot, cops won't shoot."

"Are you sure about that?" Michael asked.

"Naw, no way," LJ argued. Sara's arm tightened around him, as if to quietly agree. "They're still gonna try to kill you up in there, and he'll still come after us."

"We've got to take him down," Michael said.

"What?" Lincoln hissed. "Michael!"

"It's the only way," Michael breathed. He glanced at Sara.

She nodded, releasing LJ and stepping forward. "We only come out of this alive if he goes down. We have to do the last thing he expects us to do, and shoot first." Michael inclined his head in agreement.

"You two are not seriously suggesting we attack an armed and trained agent," Lincoln said.

"Four of us and one of him," Sara pointed out.

"Three," Lincoln snapped. "My son is not going out there with a gun!"

"Linc," Michael said patiently, but Lincoln cut him off.

"Besides, we fire shots, law enforcement will be here in two seconds flat. You think we got enough time to get away from that?"

"We'll go quickly," Michael said. "We can execute this. Take him down, hit the car ready to go. It's the only way, and the longer we sit in here arguing about it, the less of an advantage we have."

"El?" Lincoln asked, turning to LJ.

LJ licked his lips. "Listen," he said, "anything that involves trying to kill that dude, you know I'm in."

"Fine," Lincoln sighed. "What's the plan, Michael?"

Michael rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. "Element of surprise," he said. "Unless he was watching earlier when the pizza arrived, he might not know we have two rooms."

"He wasn't," Sara said. "I would have seen him. Believe me. I looked."

"Here's the plan. Count of three, we open both doors and hit him hard as we can. Once we've established cover, LJ and Sara run for the car."

"Again?" LJ asked. He was trying to be funny, but it was a little obscure for the moment. He licked his lips and hunched his shoulders as he shoved his hands in his pockets nervously.

"I can cover LJ," Sara promised Lincoln. "I've got plenty of target practice under my belt."

"Don't shoot first if you can help it," Michael said. "We'll take care of that. The fewer shots fired, the better. You only fire in self-defense. Let's get the stuff we really need into one bag, LJ can carry it. In front of you," he added. "It'll be one more thing for that guy to have to shoot around if it comes to that."

LJ swallowed and nodded.

"What if he's already called the cops?" Lincoln mused.

"He'll try to take care of it himself first," LJ said. "He doesn't want cops around to crimp his style."

They scrambled around the room re-organizing the bags quickly, Lincoln and Michael both stuffing pizza into their mouths as they went. Lincoln held up the box of guns as he placed it into the bag. "You don't touch this," he reminded LJ. "We have an agreement."

"Right," LJ agreed with a somber expression.

Lincoln zipped the bag and handed it to LJ, who swung it over his shoulder.

"Listen," Lincoln said. He looked uncomfortable. LJ was starting to get used to that. "If anything happens-"

"Dad," LJ said, cutting him off. "Come on."

"I just want you to know-"

"I know."

But Lincoln wasn't finished. "I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to you last time, and this time-"

"It's not goodbye," LJ insisted. "I'll see you in the car." Still, he knew exactly what his father meant. He remembered last time too, all too clearly.

"Right," Lincoln said, looking away.

Tentatively, LJ reached out, his arm feeling uneasy and stiff, to touch his father's shoulder. Lincoln looked at his hand in surprise at first, and then moved forward. LJ bit his lip and impulsively reached out, squeezing his dad around beneath his arms, dipping his head. "It's gonna be fine, Dad."

He felt his father's strong arms gripping him back, and he allowed himself to close his eyes. After a moment, Lincoln pulled away. "We're ready," he announced, cocking his revolver.

Michael pulled Sara aside. "You stand in the doorway," he said, "count to three and then cue us both at the same time. As soon as you cue us, you run to the door, grab LJ, and you two move. Linc?"

"I got port, you got starboard?" Lincoln asked.

"Sure thing," Michael agreed.

LJ crouched nervously by the door, fingering the strap on the bag. His father held the gun to his chest, his heavy breathing the only sound as they waited for Michael to ready his position.

"Five," Sara said, as though she was too nervous to start with three, "four, three. Two, one. Go!"

Lincoln kicked the door open. LJ peeked around the corner.

He didn't see Kellerman at first.

The man had moved. He saw him a moment later, moving down the balcony towards them.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Michael shouted, moving onto the balcony. LJ felt Sara's arm around his shoulders again, which was now his cue to move. He scrambled out onto the balcony behind Michael and Lincoln and let her steer him towards the stairwell.

"Stay where you are!" Kellerman's voice rang out. "FBI!" LJ rolled his eyes even as he scrambled down the stairs. Like hell Kellerman was FBI, though it wouldn't surprise him if the man had a fake badge for the benefit of anyone who might stumble onto the scene.

He could hear the shouts from upstairs, the sound of other motel guests scrambling in confusion at the yelling out on the balcony. And then from the chaos upstairs, the first shot rang out, followed by another, and he didn't know who was shooting at who, it was all too close, and some unfamiliar voice was screaming.

LJ hit the pavement at the bottom of the stairs, letting the weight of the bag drag him behind Sara. He stopped at the car door. She had the keys, and was scrambling around for the driver's side door. He bent low, trying to cower beside the car, waiting for the door to open. He turned around, his back to the vehicle, to study the scene, balancing the bag on his knees.

Kellerman was backing his way down the stairs, moving quickly, almost preternaturally. He looked fearful, though LJ realized why once he saw the bystanders upstairs on the balcony. It was all a show, and the more witnesses, the better his performance had to be. At the top of the stairs, Lincoln was thundering towards him, Michael on his heels. LJ looked back at Kellerman, who for once, looked genuinely afraid. But how genuine was it?

Genuine or not, Kellerman was only a few feet away from him and taking aim at Lincoln. LJ reached for the door handle and pulled it again, but it wasn't open yet. He didn't know what Sara was doing on the driver's side, but she was taking an awfully long time.

Lincoln found his footing on the stairs and pointed his own revolver. His finger twitched, and nothing happened.

LJ realized it a moment before Kellerman. Something was wrong with the weapon. And Lincoln had to stop what he was doing to look, and Michael was behind him and couldn't see, and Kellerman-

LJ dropped the strap of his bag and charged. He was already low, all he had to do was launch himself, tearing across the pavement just a few feet, to hit Kellerman's legs and take him down with a shout.

The surprise was enough to keep the man from having enough time to aim anything at him, but the surprise only lasted a moment, and Kellerman was stronger than he looked. As they fell to the ground, LJ grabbed frantically for the weapon. His hand closed around something cold, and he launched it away, far away, as hard as he could. And then he was down. On the ground, tangled in a mess of legs and shoes and bare arms, LJ didn't have much of an advantage at all. One shoe connected with his shoulder and he was knocked backwards, his low balance unable to compensate. He hit the pavement hard, feeling his shirt scrape against the back of his skin.

Another shot rang out. The breath had been knocked out of his lungs. He stared up at the sky. What…? Something hurt, a lot. In his shoulder. What was that? Why was it cold?

"Stay where you are!"

"LJ!"

The world lowered around him. He was being lifted up, dragged backwards.

"Linc! No!"

He felt weak. His brain tried to process what this meant. Nothing he could come up with seemed like a good development.

"Stay! Where! You! Are!"

"Move!"

"Sara!"

"You want him, you come and get him!"

"Michael, don't shoot!"

More shots. Three more.

Footsteps.

Lights. Brighter. Coming on.

"Move it."

Someone was telling him to move, and it was hazy enough that he tried, waving his arms and legs, feeling pavement moving beneath him. His father? Uncle Mike? It wasn't them, but he could only obey. He had to get out of here somehow.

"LJ! No!"

He blinked. No. Something was wrong. He had to – had to move – had to get away-

The car door slammed shut beside him.

"Motherfuck, kid. You're gonna bleed all over the rental car. God."

"No," LJ moaned. Wrong car. Not this car. This wasn't where he wanted to be. He reached for the door, grabbed the handle, tried to force it open, but nothing happened. He was locked in.

"Can you try to keep it off the seat at least? Christ."

He forced himself to sit up, forced himself to open his eyes, and he could see the motel disappearing behind them, could see a body running after the car even as Kellerman sped up, his father, moving as fast as was humanly possible, shouting something into the night air.

"Shot," LJ murmured. It didn't hurt as much as he'd expected.

"You didn't tell me your dad was such a piss-poor shot," Kellerman said conversationally. "Man, oh man. You're actually a better shot than he is, believe it or not."

He almost wanted to grunt his appreciation for that, but it seemed a little moot at this point. He also wanted desperately to clear his head, but it was growing fainter and fainter, and he couldn't keep his eyes open, and the world was swimming.

And then, blissfully, everything went dark.


	10. Binders

LJ was awakened by a hand brushing across his face. At first he thought it was his mother, then he realized it couldn't be and hoped it was his father, it was an unfamiliar male hand, but no, it definitely wasn't. Not only that, it was too rough. Pinching his cheeks together, shaking his head back and forth, just trying to rouse him, not worried about hurting him. This wasn't his father. This was-

"Come on. Get up."

He looked around as he struggled to sit up. His shoulder was numb now, the pain had dulled. They were parked behind what looked like a warehouse of some kind. He sat up and glanced around. Nothing but forest and parking lot and a single dirt road.

"Where are we?" he mumbled.

"What does it look like?" Kellerman asked impatiently.

His wrists were trapped behind his back. He tugged at them. Handcuffs. Of course.

"Move," Kellerman ordered again, and LJ didn't see much of a choice. He glanced down at his shoulder. There was something tied around it, like something approximating a bandage, and he did sort of remember something happening, pressure around his chest, somebody grumbling under their breath. None of this made any sense, but he had to at least cooperate for the time being. He set his leg on the ground and tested his weight. It was okay. He could walk on it. He started for the entrance, struggling only a little.

"Tough guy, huh?" Kellerman asked as he walked along, falling into step with LJ.

"You know," was all that LJ could think of to say. "Where are we?"

Kellerman rolled his eyes. "What does it look like?"

"It… looks like an office."

"Good call." Kellerman prodded his arm and LJ stumbled a bit.

"An office where nobody blinks at a sixteen year old in handcuffs bleeding the crap out of his shoulder?"

"Very. Good call."

LJ stopped short in front of the door. "This is the headquarters, isn't it. The one you told Sara about."

In response, Kellerman placed his hand to the door. "Look at that," he said in a conversational tone, "my access still works."

"Big surprise," LJ sniffed.

Inside the door, a security guard looked up casually. "Is everything ready?" Kellerman asked.

"Basement, room 34," the man replied in a bored tone.

"What about Room 158?"

"Walters said for you to see her about that."

"Come along then," Kellerman said to LJ. "And play nice."

He led him around the corner to a stairwell. The place didn't look like any secret government conspiracy headquarters LJ had ever imagined. Low pipes threatened them from overhead, the floor sloped. A musky smell surrounded them, and the paint was peeling from every surface. Only one reason to bring him to a place like this.

"You're gonna kill me, aren't you. You are. Don't patronize me."

Kellerman sighed. "You may find this hard to believe, but I am very far beyond patronizing you, kid. Okay. Let's not beat around the bush here. Yes. Yes, once I get them here, where I need them, where I have the advantage, I'm probably going to kill you. And them. At this point we don't have anything to gain by keeping any of you alive, and you're far more trouble than you're worth." He opened a door and flipped a light switch, revealing a small, bare room with a window at the top. "You especially."

He shoved LJ into the room and LJ turned around to face him. "Why did you bring me here? Why not just kill them there?"

"Questions, questions. You have questions. Witnesses have questions. I really hate questions."

"Why'd you let us tie you up, then? Back in New Glarus?"

Kellerman sighed and shook his head, clicking his tongue. "You want some big speech from me? Is that it? Because that would make me the villain, wouldn't it? I'm not the villain here, LJ. I'm just trying to do the right thing. You're traveling with escaped convicts, after all. Your father is supposed to be dead. By law."

"Sure, you're not the villain. Like you didn't frame me for murder, or you didn't help kill my mom, my stepdad, and both my lawyers. You're just a guy doing the right thing. That's all."

"I didn't," Kellerman said, looking up in surprise. "I didn't touch your lawyers. I mean I tried, sure. But I failed, no small thanks to you."

"Yeah? Then who did?" LJ asked skeptically.

Kellerman shrugged. "Whoever did, I'd probably thank them if I had the slightest idea who they were. You want me to make a list of the people who want you and the people connected with you dead? Have you met your dad and his brother lately?"

"I don't believe you," LJ hissed. "I don't believe a word you say." It occurred to him that he wouldn't mind seeing that list, though the point probably was moot by now.

Kellerman shrugged. "Think what you want." He bent down towards LJ and produced a strand of cloth. "Maybe you'll have more time to think if you stop running your mouth. You're going to be here for awhile, so-"

LJ closed his mouth, gathered another mouthful of spittle, and then launched it towards the man. He knew it was a bad idea to taunt the psychotic renegade government agent holding him captive, and it was probably less than effective, but at least it made him feel better, and he was dead anyway. Might as well get his kicks in beforehand.

Kellerman shook his head as he wiped his cheek. "Do you know just how much of a pain in the ass you are, kid?"

"Yeah, I've got some idea," LJ said, satisfied, before Kellerman jerked the cloth around his mouth and sealed it shut.

He watched as the man checked everything, pulling a little too tightly, before standing and moving across the room. "Some of our best people started as pains in the ass," Kellerman added. "I think we're past the point of a job offer, though. You're right. You wouldn't really fit in with the company culture."

LJ felt the slow burn as he watched the man disappear through the doorway. This couldn't be it. This couldn't be the end. He couldn't have gotten this far just to be used as bait for the deaths of Lincoln and Michael. That couldn't be the endgame. What would Michael do? What would Michael do?

Where _was_ Michael?

But most importantly, because he couldn't say it enough – what would Michael do?

He didn't have much to work with. The room was empty. Kellerman wasn't dumb. He wasn't going to leave sharp objects around for LJ to work with. Not deliberately, anyway.

LJ glanced up. There was in fact a window, although it was a little high up. Could he get to it from where he was if he stood up? Could he even stand up, with his arms and legs tied like this, and with the injury to his leg? He twisted his weight around. It was possible. He rocked himself onto his knees and used his shoulders to launch his momentum, carrying him forward and with a hop or two, he was standing. He ignored the pain. It didn't matter anymore.

If he could launch something at the window… anything… there was nothing. And unless he could get his arms over his head, he had no chance of reaching it. Could he step through his arms, pull them to the front somehow? He felt the strain in his shoulder as he bent over and tried to contort. Not likely. He wasn't exactly double-jointed.

It couldn't end like this. Couldn't end. Not like this.

He tried again, trying to ignore the pain that now shot through his shoulder and down his arm, and it was then that Kellerman opened the door.

"Oh for christ's sakes," Kellerman sighed. "Sit down, you stupid punk."

LJ tried one last desperate attempt, launching his full body weight into the man, slamming him low, trying to tip him over again like he had before, but his opponent was far more trained in hand-to-hand combat, not to mention had full use of his limbs, and he quickly set the boy off balance and plopped him down on the ground.

LJ grunted in anger and indignation, but Kellerman wasn't having it.

"I thought we'd play nice," he said. "Nice, LJ? You couldn't play nice? Not for one afternoon? You couldn't make this easy on me just once?" He pulled out another set of handcuffs. "Let's see here…" LJ tried to twist away, tried to roll, but he didn't have much of a physical advantage, and before he knew it, his arms behind him were awkwardly chained straight to his feet.

"That oughta do it," Kellerman said with satisfaction, standing up. "Now just be a good boy and wait here for your daddy, okay?" To add final insult to injury, Kellerman leaned over and patted him on the head. LJ narrowed his eyes in anger and let loose with a loud, muffled insulting grunt. "Right. Gotcha." The man rolled his eyes before starting out of the room, closing the door once more. LJ continued to try to grunt something around the gag, but it was no use. Kellerman couldn't make out his insults and expletives, and wasn't about to try.

LJ leaned back – it was about the only thing he could do – and closed his eyes. There had to be a way out of this. There was always a way out. Even when things seemed hopeless, there was a way out.

He pictured his father's face. Not his father the way he looked now, free and renegade and tough and untouchable. The way he looked in jail, defeated, tired, weak. He'd gotten out. He'd figured out a way when it seemed like there was no hope left. He was so close to winning, winning this whole thing. And LJ wasn't about to be the reason he lost now. They still had a house to build, after all.

He didn't like having nothing to do but think. He'd done plenty of that in Arizona, and it hadn't done him much good. He slumped back against the wall. He wasn't tired enough to sleep and he didn't want to let his guard down, either. A starfish, like the girl in that book, melting into his surroundings. He could remember touching a starfish at the aquarium on a field trip once. He didn't like it, it felt cold and dead, not alive. He straightened up. He didn't want to be a starfish. Not yet.

Memories. Happy memories. When his life flashed before his eyes, it hadn't been too bad. He only wanted to remember the good. Toasting marshmallows on a camping trip with his mother and father, which was in fact the only memory he still had from when they were together. Cubs season tickets with Brian and his dad. And city league baseball semi-finals, eighth grade, looking up from the outfield to see four signs reading "L", "J", "4" "3", carried by his mother, Adrian, his father, and Michael, who were all waving them with one hand and eating hot dogs with the other. Going to Disney World in fifth grade with just him and his mom, teaching her how to play Pokemon on his Game Boy while they waited in lines to go on all the rides, and puking up chocolate chip pancakes after Space Mountain. Learning to cannonball in the pool at their old apartment complex with all the neighbor kids. Getting his driver's permit on the first try. Waiting in line overnight to see the third Lord of the Rings movie. Seeing his father kick the crap out of Kellerman.

Some of it had been pretty good.

LJ didn't think he believed in heaven. His dad used to make him go to Sunday School, but his mom never did and he stopped going when the Sunday visits stopped. Maybe now was a good time to start believing again. Maybe he could get away with it if he meant it this time. Maybe his mom was up there, even though she didn't believe in much of anything, but just because she was good and kind and innocent, and Veronica and Nick, too. Maybe he'd see them all, and they could all just be happy and safe together, and it wouldn't matter that Lisa and Veronica kind of hated each other a little bit. Not anymore. It would even be okay if Adrian was there. He didn't mind.

The door flew open, and his eyes did, too. How many hours had passed? LJ had lost track.

"Okay, we're on. Stand up. Oh. Right." LJ watched in surprise as Kellerman uncuffed the handcuffs and took him by the elbow to pull him up. He didn't resist. The man was strong, and in a moment LJ had found his balance on his feet.

"One thing before we go," Kellerman said, taking out another piece of cloth. LJ grunted a protest. "Play nice, LJ. Believe me. This time you want to."

He wasn't sure that he agreed with that, but he didn't have much room for argument, and tried to relax as the blindfold blocked his vision and darkness replaced the empty room. Maybe he'd been better off in prison after all.

"Just take steady steps and you'll be fine. Don't mess around. Come with me."

He tried to obey, walking as steady as he could. He remembered from his trip in that the floor wasn't exactly even, and he took slow, careful steps. Kellerman's hand on his elbow guided him through the door and he fought the urge to pull away. Right now, that awful man was the only thing keeping him from yet another injury, and he wasn't sure if he'd be up for escaping if anything else happened to him at this point.

Instead, he paid attention to the steps, trying to form a mental picture. Following the smells, although everything had the same vaguely moldy smell. Trying to count his steps, trying to picture the turns, so that he could maybe find his way back upstairs to the exit if he had the chance. If. That was a big if. But it was what Michael would do. That much he knew.

He heard another door open and the sounds changed, more muffled. He was in a room and the musky smell was even stronger. The door closed. He felt Kellerman's hands near his ears, and then moments later the light came flooding back.

He turned around to look.

On either side of him, stretching along a long hallway, he saw row after row of boxes on shelves. Files. Binders.

Information.

Data.

"This can go however you want it to," Kellerman said. "Okay? I have to go fill out paperwork. You can stay in here while I do that."

LJ didn't know what to do. He stared at Kellerman. Something was fishy. This couldn't be what he thought it was. The boxes would blow up, or they were covered in anthrax, or he was going to be framed for a break-in…

"Fine," Kellerman said with a heavy sigh. "I'll give you a primer. Your stuff is all on these two shelves." He pointed to a nearby set. LJ's eyes widened only slightly. "It's pretty easy. Paperwork is mostly coded to 800s and for your purposes, you're only going to have authorizations, which are 753s, those are the exceptions, and acquired documents which are 804s, and generated documents, which are 808s. Surveillance is coded higher, audio surveillance is 500s and video surveillance is 600s, and all of the files should play on the computer right over there. It's all coded by subject, which is you, so don't worry about that, and by date, which you should be able to handle. Got it?"

What was he supposed to say? He could only nod dully.

"Naturally you won't find anything here other than your files – everything else related to your case is elsewhere, so don't think you're going to be finding your dad's stuff here. I'm just telling you so you don't waste your time looking for it. Anything else?" Kellerman asked. "Oh. Right." He lifted his hands and removed LJ's gag.

"Why?" LJ asked faintly.

"Why do you think?" Kellerman asked. "Give us a guess."

LJ shook his head stiffly.

Kellerman lowered his tone. "Guess or you go back in the closet, kid. I had to fight to get you in here, make it worth my time, okay?"

LJ licked his lips. The gag had dried his mouth out. Or maybe he was just faint from loss of blood. "You want to distract me, keep me from escaping. Keep me docile. Or you're gonna kill me anyway. Or frame me for something. Or it's all bullshit." He licked his lips again. He was running out of ideas. "You want to recruit me? Test me. See my reaction."

"LJ," Kellerman said, "truth is? I just want you to see that it's not personal. I want you to see how far this goes, how much we know."

"You want to scare me," he said softly.

"Call it that. Okay."

"You bastard. You're just gonna kill me anyway after you use me as bait to get my dad."

"Exactly. And your files will be moot then. But you might as well go out in style, huh? Have at it. If you need to pee, just wave over there. See that? Carl will let you out." He pointed in the corner. "Don't think for a second that's the only one, of course."

"Why?" LJ asked again.

Kellerman smiled at him. It didn't reach his eyes. "Have fun, kid." He reached for the handcuffs and unfastened them, leaving them dangling from LJ's wrist before he stepped out of the room.


End file.
